


Night is Thy Name

by Ryo, weepingnaiad



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Community: startrekbigbang, M/M, Romance, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 64,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryo/pseuds/Ryo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  Leonardo McCoy lives in 16th century Bologna with his parents, his young life carefree and easy.  After a chance encounter with violence in a dark alley changes his life, Leonardo finds himself removed from his hometown to his uncle’s home in Venice.  He rises above loss to become a successful physician, but his personal life is in tatters.  When he stumbles upon the renowned courtesan, Giacomo il Fiore della Notte, he swears he’s met the captivating man at least a decade earlier.  But Giacomo is impossibly young.  It turns out Giacomo has a secret, one that will change Leonardo’s life forever if he can earn Giacomo’s trust and help them both move beyond their pasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Artist:** Shinychimera  
>  **Mixer:** Echoinautumn  
>  **Content Advisory:** Giacomo is a highly sought courtesan, as such his life contains elements of dubious consent, consensual BDSM, threesomes, possible twin-cest, many other kinks and sexual proclivities, all implied and off-screen.  
>  **Betas:** The amazing, bookaddict43 and abigail89. Thank you, m’dears! We couldn’t have done it without you!  
>  **Disclaimer:** First, this is a crossover with Mel Keegan’s historical fantasy novels, _’Nocturne’_ and its sequel _’Twilight’_. We’ve borrowed the world and a character from those novels and used them in the spirit of transformative works and mean no infringement of any kind. And, of course, we’ve borrowed Roddenberry’s creations as well. But we promise to return them with smiles on.  
>  **A/N:** While this is set in historical Venice, we do not claim that this is in anyway historically accurate. Let’s face it, ancient times were not pretty, clean, or sanitary places. The era portrayed in this story is in no way the reality for people at that time, especially homosexuals. But, this is fiction, and as such, a better place than reality. Just like in the movies. If you want to see the Venice that inspired this, then watch the film _“Dangerous Beauty.”_
> 
>  **Character List:** Leonard McCoy as Leonardo Horatio McCoy, James Kirk as Giacomo il Fiore Della Notte, Christopher Pike as Cristoforo Picca, Montgomery Scott as himself, Gaila as l’Usignolo di Roma, Clay and Jocelyn Treadway as Claudio and Jocelina Picca, and Chabrier as himself.
> 
>  **Acknowledgments:** First, we both wish to humbly and gratefully acknowledge our incredibly talented artist, shinychimera, whose absolutely breathtaking work is an exquisite masterpiece that truly brings our words to life. She went above and beyond on this and it was a joy to work with her. To our mixer, echoinautumn, thank you for the gorgeous music that is so fitting to our story and the times. We know you had to work hard to find era-appropriate pieces and your choices are fabulous! Thank you both, it was a pleasure and an honor.  
>  We'd be remiss if our betas did not get more than a one-line thank you, as well. This was a wonderful experience, thank you both for your hard work, dedication, and encouragement, especially abigail89 who listened to me whine far too much and patiently talked me down. And bookaddict43, I don't know how you did it, betaing this entire thing even though your computer was dying. That is dedication. Thank you! And, of course, I wish to thank my co-writer, ryo, who I dragged into this fandom and, even if she's not completely converted, she still humors me. She's the one who did the research and added in the historical and political bits so that the story is grounded in reality even if it is just a lovely fantasy. Thank you, m'dear!  
>  **Translations:**  
>  Gaelic:  
> Damnú air – damn it
> 
> Italian:  
> il Fiore della Notte – the Flower of the Night  
> l’Usignolo di Roma – the nightingale of Rome  
> amante – lover  
> cara – dear (f.)  
> amato – beloved
> 
> French:  
> mon seigneur – my lord  
> ma cheri/mon cher – my dear  
> mon coeur – my heart  
> Mon dieu – my God  
> mon petit – my little one

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/weepingnaiad/pic/000k46hq)   


_Bologna, Italy, 1562_

Leonardo whistled as he walked, swinging his now-empty bag in his fingers. He loved helping his father with his work, was gratified by seeing the relief in Signora Zanini’s eyes when the herbs were delivered. David McCoy had said he could do nothing for the lady, and merely eased her suffering with a special herbal tea, but Leonardo had seen with his own eyes that his father underplayed his contribution. To bring relief and to ease their patients’ passing was something profound. And Leonardo was by turns intrigued and awed. He wanted to learn everything. His father and mother indulged him so that he was out late at night, running herbs, fetching, toting, whatever he could do to help. In a year or two, he could join his father as a true apprentice. That thought made him smile, despite the chill in the deepening night, despite everything.

The cold was making him shiver. Signora Zanini’s home was on the outskirts of Bologna. The farthest he was allowed out alone and now the chill had crept into his bones and he took an alleyway, a shortcut through a section of town his parents would chide him for even knowing of, let alone traversing by night. Still, he was cold and this path would shave his journey by a quarter.

Leonardo tightened his cloak, tucking his bag into its folds. It did not do to display any sort of wealth in this area. Although it abutted the large gardens of some of the finest homes in Bologna, it couldn’t be more far removed, almost as though he’d stepped into another world. He cut across a shallow gully running thick with odorous sludge, careful to keep his boots and cloak well away from the stinking mess. Lights and raucous noise spilled from doorways, women and men clad too thinly for the cold hanging off numerous patrons. Leonardo ducked into the nearest alley, freezing instantly when he saw two men scuffling. There was a pained grunt and the larger man dropped the other to the ground, kicking him once before turning back toward Leonardo.

Leonardo ducked into a darkened doorway, his heart in his throat and holding his breath. If the attacker had seen him, he’d not make it home alive. The man lurched unsteadily past him, swearing and wiping off a short blade as he turned into the street.

A weak moan pulled Leonardo’s attention back to the alley and a form crumpled on the ground. His eyes darted to the street, but the large man was gone, lost in the lights and noise of the taverna. Cautiously he moved toward the injured man, calling softly as he neared, “Signore? Are you hurt?”

His only reply was a soft groan. Taking a deep breath, he crouched by the man, praying to all the gods he knew that this man would not lash out at him. “Let me help, Signore.”

The alley was dark, the clouds scudding by overhead hiding even the meager moon, so Leonardo had to feel his way around. He reached out and turned the man gently. “Let me see. My father is a healer.”

The man’s clothes were soft, well made under Leonardo’s palms, but the front was sticky, already soaked through with blood.

“Damnú air!” burst from Leonardo’s throat. His father’s native tongue slipping out, invectives he’d learned from his father during stress-filled moments. Leonardo’s eyes widened. His mother would tan his hide if she heard him say such things and the flinch was momentary but immediate.

A strong hand clutched his robe. “No... Palazzo Tibaldi... Chabrier... Please tell him... Jacques..."

“So far?” Leonardo argued. “My father’s home is closer.”

“No! Please?” The man’s grip turned lax, slipped off Leonardo’s robe.

Leonardo couldn’t resist. If he waited any longer, the only place this man would see again would be the inside of a tomb. He gave the man’s hand, already too cold, a gentle squeeze before standing. “I’ll run as fast as I can, Signor Jacques. Everything will be alright. You will see.”

Leonardo ran as fast as his legs could go. He was grateful that he often had to run home, having dawdled too long on his errands. He remembered the Palazzo Tibaldi. Luckily, it was not as far as Signora Zanini’s home, but still far enough that he was sweating and breathless, holding his sides as he grasped the large ring on the door and let it fall numerous times.

Instantly, his knocking was answered with loud barking of several dogs, and by the low bass of their voices Leonardo could tell the beasts had to be large. He took an involuntary step back.

“Who is it?” a man’s voice demanded from behind the door.

Leonardo panted out, “Leonardo McCoy, Signore. Jacques sent me. He is hurt.”

The heavy door swung open.

“Come inside,” the man ordered, and when Leonardo stepped over the threshold, the man quickly studied him in the light of the torch burning in the sconce by the door. Leonardo saw the man’s eyes suddenly narrow and looked down to find his clothes were smeared with blood.

“Back!” the man snapped at the two huge, heavily built dogs that were sniffing at Leonardo, low growls rumbling in their throats at the scent of blood.

“Where is Jacques?” the man asked, his voice tense and worried.

Leonardo stood as straight as his heaving sides would allow. He wanted to back away from the dogs, keep the large man between them, but he held his ground on shaking legs. “He-” his voice squeaked around his dry throat and he tried again. “He was attacked! In an alley! I-I...” He stopped, took a moment to gather his thoughts. He’d do no one any good if he could not keep his wits about himself. “There was a large man with a knife... and so much blood!” He pointed back out into the night. “I can take you there. Please, Signore? He is gravely wounded.”

Suddenly, the dogs swayed their tails, forgetting Leo for a moment, and another man stepped out of the shadowed passage. He was dark, tall and very handsome and wore power like a cloak wrapped around him.

“What alley, child?” he asked, and the mere sound of his voice made Leonardo calm down and believe that everything was going to be alright.

Leonardo’s legs were rubbery from running, but he was no longer shaking. “The alley behind Il Taverna Justicar, Signore.” He bowed politely recognizing the man’s status and conscious of his own less than presentable state.

The nobleman nodded. “I know the place. Thank you for the message. Take care of the boy, Jérôme,” he ordered to his servant.

“But mon seigneur... ” the servant began protesting, but the man was already gone.

He disappeared so fast that Leonardo could not tell which way he had gone. Jérôme muttered a curse that sounded French to Leonardo’s ears.

“Can you walk, Leonardo?” Jérôme asked, turning to him. “Signor Chabrier will need my help, so I have to go, too. You can come with me or you can stay here and wait. We shall get Signor Jacques and then I will see you home.”

Leonardo, still reeling, shook his head slowly. “It... it is late. My parents will be worried... I should go...” The rush from the attack, from nearly being discovered, from running so far, had fled and Leonardo sagged, but he had to go. He looked down at himself, finally seeing the blood on his cloak. He was already in so much trouble.

Still, if he was going to get a beating, he’d rather know how Jacques fared, and maybe, just maybe, if he returned home with a tale of saving a man’s life, his mother might excuse him this once. He straightened and looked Jérôme in the eye, “I should go, but I would like to know that Signor Jacques is safe. My home is beyond that area, so I would like to go with you, if I may?”

Jérôme nodded and, disappearing for a moment, returned armed with a sword and a long dagger. He lit a torch from the one burning in the sconce and motioned to Leonardo. “Let’s go, lad.”

They hurried along the dark street as Leonardo tried to make his tired legs cooperate and not delay their progress. But they must have been moving even more slowly than Leonardo thought, because they met the nobleman, Chabrier, carrying the unconscious Jacques when they were only half way to the place of the attack.

Leonardo tried to keep the shock from his features as they approached. Signor Chabrier must be very strong to have carried Jacques so far alone. His eyes flitted between the two men before settling on Jacques’ face. By the spluttering torch light, he appeared to be sleeping, full lips barely parted under a perfectly straight nose, strong cheek bones swept toward thick, bushy brows, abundant, dark gold curls framing his face.

He was holding his breath, hoping those eyes would open. It was suddenly quite important that he know that this man lived.

As if disturbed by the bright light, Jacques moaned, his lashes fluttering and then rising. “Chabrier?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Shhh, child, I have you,” Chabrier murmured soothingly. Then he glanced to Jérôme. “I’ll take care of Jacques. You see the boy home.”

Leonardo was transfixed. Jacques’ eyes were a fathomless dark pool, limned by a vivid blue, and reminded Leonardo of looking into the cool spring in the hidden grotto by the seashore. Leonardo started when he realized he had been staring and he looked up, his father’s words about dilated pupils coming to mind. Sometimes a blow to the head could cause such a thing. He found his voice then. “I pray he will be well, my lord. If you need any assistance, my father, Signor David McCoy is a talented healer.”

Chabrier spared a smile to Leonardo. “Thank you, but it is unlikely a healer would be of any help now.” Then he nodded to Jérôme and was off.

Jérôme looked after him, muttering in French under his breath. Then he put his hand on Leonardo’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Signor Leonardo. Time to take you home. I wager your parents are wondering what has happened to you.”

Leonardo looked back over his shoulder as Chabrier literally disappeared into the night. He hoped that the nobleman was wrong and that Jacques would live. Blinking tiredly, he nodded to Jérôme. “I am in deep trouble, Signore, for being so late, but mostly for crossing this area. I am to take a longer way ‘round, but I will take my punishment gladly. If I had not been in that alley, your Jacques would not have a chance.”

“This is true,” Jérôme agreed as they started walking. “I am sure your parents will not be too hard on you when they learn what kept you so long. And we do not have to tell them where exactly you came across Jacques. God knows bad things can happen to a man right by his front door.”

Leonardo nodded and led Jérôme to his home. The lights were dim in the house, but his father’s laboratory burned brightly. Swallowing, he looked up at Jérôme, unsure which parent would be the most lenient, but his decision was made for him when his father opened the door and stood before them.

Jérôme explained everything and made Leonardo sound far braver and more heroic than he felt, but at least it saved him a beating and he didn’t mind the extra chores when his mother smiled at him with pride.

~~*~~

Leonardo straightened his shoulders and gripped the bronze ring, rapping it lightly against the ferocious lion’s mane. He did not have permission to be here, but Palazzo Tibaldi was not far out of the way from Signora Zanini’s home and he _had_ to know. Did Jacques survive?

Leonardo fidgeted as he waited, trying not to lose focus once again. On far too many occasions of late, he’d been caught out by his parents and the padre, his knuckles still smarting from the last sharp rap when he had been daydreaming of Jacques, of the young man’s recovery and his gratitude for Leonardo’s aid.

Like the previous time, he was greeted by low barking. He waited but all he heard was the dogs sniffing noisily under the door. Leonardo wondered if he came at the wrong time and caught no one at home. Finally, the door opened and he looked up into Jérôme’s unreadable face.

“Signore? I-I am Leonardo McCoy. I told you about Jacques?” He caught his breath and rushed on, afraid if he stopped speaking he’d be sent away without an answer. “I-I was wondering? How is he?”

“Si, I remember you, Leonardo.” A faint smile ghosted over the man’s lips. He did not answer Leonardo’s question at once as if deciding what to tell him or choosing his words. Finally he sighed. “I am sorry, lad. Jacques is no longer with us.”

Leonardo felt as though he had been kicked in the gut. He should not be surprised. Jacques was gravely injured, but he had hoped. He ducked his head and willed away the sudden wetness in his eyes. It was silly! He did not even know the man! Still, it was hard to look up and realize that his childish daydreams were nothing but that and, even worse, that his presence was a painful reminder of loss. “My apologies, Signore. I had hoped that he would yet survive. Please, give my deepest sympathies to Signor Chabrier and the rest of his household.”

Jérôme nodded. “You are a kind and brave boy, Leonardo. Thank you for everything you have done.” He offered Leonardo his hand like to an adult and an equal.

Leonardo stood straight and took Jérôme’s hand, meeting his gaze. One day, he vowed, he’d be able to save the next Jacques.

~~*~~

 _Venice, Italy, 1574_

Leonardo sighed and closed the chamber door softly behind him. Except for ameliorating her pain, there was nothing more he could do for Signora Capello. He ducked his head, his jaw clenching. If only his father had lived! Leonardo was certain of little in this life, but he knew that his father was the best healer he’d ever known, knew far more than the self-proclaimed physicians at the university, and those here in Venice were far more enlightened than the ones back home in Bologna!

His father’s trust of herbs and healing poultices, willow bark, and other ‘concoctions of the devil himself’ were why he had been so successful at his craft. And now Leonardo felt like a mere pretender, still a student trying to decipher his father’s notes after all these years. Leonardo straightened and moved down the hall to the staircase. It was late and he was tired, but he refused to leave until the lady was sleeping as restfully as he could provide.

He heard another door close and footsteps approach. A hasty glance up revealed a youth in bright finery leaving the lord’s chamber. Self-righteous anger burned through Leonardo. How dare he? The lady was on her last days and her husband was frolicking with a courtesan just down the hall?

Leonardo turned away just as the young man approached.

“Good evening, Signore.”

Leonardo might have been able to contain his anger if the courtesan had not spoken to him, but here was a harlot, tousled and well-used, greeting him as though nothing untoward had happened!

“How dare you?!? Do you have no shame?” He gestured wildly to the lady’s door, advancing a step on the youth, his voice a hissing rasp. “His _wife_ is bare days from drawing her last breath and you come to him... allow him to use you... to slake his lusts! For what? For the love of god, man! Could you not have waited a mere hand of days to gain your coin?”

Leonardo stopped suddenly, pulling up short. He knew that face. “Jacques?”

The courtesan’s eyebrows crawled up higher and higher with each accusation Leonardo hurled at him. He did not seem perturbed, and that only fueled Leonardo’s anger. But at the sound of the name, the amused look slipped off the young man’s face, replaced by surprise and something else Leonardo could not quite fathom.

“Have we met?” The courtesan’s question sounded uncertain, even cautious.

“I am sure of it, though I would understand that you might not recall _me_ under the circumstances.” Leonardo’s tone softened. He didn’t mean to be so harsh. He should have saved his ire for the lord of the manor, not the courtesan.

Offering a smile, his hand, and a little bow, he said, “Forgive me. We were never formally introduced. I am Leonardo McCoy. We did not actually meet. I saw you attacked in an alley in Bologna. You were gravely injured and sent me to fetch help.” He paused and waved down the stairs. “Perhaps we should be on our way?”

A soft ‘ah’ was all the courtesan said, and it sounded more like an exhaled breath than a word. He took the offered hand and followed Leonardo downstairs.

The stairs and corridor were dimly lit, most of the sconces snuffed out hours ago, but there was a pool of light by the door to which Leonardo steered them. And, no, he was _not_ trying to get a better look at Jacques, to see what the years had done to that face; a face that he remembered far more than anyone should from a briefest glimpse and twelve intervening, eventful years.

He tilted his head, considering. “But why would they have told me that you passed on?”

“They told you the truth,” the young man replied, turning to face Leonardo in the flickering candle light. “And we have never met. My name is Giacomo. Jacques was my elder brother.”

Leonardo’s eyes feasted on Giacomo’s face, drinking in those dark eyes, pupils blown wide with that teasing halo of blue, beguiling still. There was no way that this was not the face that featured so prominently in his dreams. They were too alike, down to the thick lashes that brushed perfect cheeks, the bones sweeping up to dense brows that would be too heavy on any other.

He shook his head. “‘Tis not possible. You are the spitting image of Jacques. Did you share the same womb?” But that made no sense. Giacomo was identical to the Jacques of twelve years ago. He frowned at the courtesan.

The young man nodded. “I know ’tis hard to believe. I have been oft told that I have grown to look exactly like Jacques. The spitting image, as you have so elegantly phrased it.” A little smile flickered over the courtesan’s lips.

Leonardo straightened and pulled back, swallowing the warmth that tiny smile engendered. “Forgive me. I did not mean to be so crass. I was but a boy, so of course the events of that evening were well fixed in my memory, but you could _not_ be the same man.” He was unconvinced and wanted to linger, even as fatigue was slowing his mind and loosening his tongue. Then it all collided. “Wait,” he stepped closer to Giacomo. “You said your name is Giacomo? As in Giacomo il Fiore della Notte?” His eyes flicked upstairs, implying what he’d already so brazenly accused. “You are well known.”

The young man gave a chuckle, sounding exasperated. “Not by my choice. Believe me, I would never pick a name so gaudy.” Then he looked at Leonardo with mock dread. “You are not going to subject me to another of your tirades, are you?”

Leonardo blinked and ducked his head before he chuckled honestly. “I cannot swear that it will not happen again, but not _this_ night.” Despite the late hour and the long vigil at the lady’s bedside, he was more animated than was his usual. He knew courtesans were paid to be charming, to make the client feel they were the most interesting person in the city, if not on earth. Rationally, Leonardo knew this. Still, he could not help the lightness in his heart as he smiled at Giacomo. “I do owe you an apology for earlier. I should have reserved my ire for the lord of this house, not heaped it upon another servant.”

Giacomo shook his head. “No need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I have taken no umbrage. Actually, I believe it commendable that you would take offense on your patient’s behalf and would defend her honour so passionately.”

Leonardo was at a loss for words. Few in his acquaintance had ever taken his tirades so easily. His shoulders loosened and he offered Giacomo a rueful smile. “He need not wait much longer before he will be free of any encumbrance. I do not understand why he could not wait.” He stopped, and shook his head again. “I did not mean to imply... I... you are obviously worth his impatience...” Leonardo flushed. “Forgive me again. I am not a man of fine words.”

“ _Obviously_?” the courtesan drawled, his smile turning outright wicked. “Well, thank you.” His eyes flickered to the door and then back to Leonardo’s face. “A gondola is waiting for me outside. Can I offer you a ride; as a peace offering?”

Leonardo’s breath caught in his throat. He licked dry lips and gave a graceful half bow. “It is I that should be offering an olive branch between us, but I accept your graciousness.”

~~*~~

The gondola was gliding gracefully along the canal, the soft splashing of the long oar marking their progress. Giacomo took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and savouring the aroma of night flowers mingling with the scent of water.

Giacomo looked at the man in front of him, enjoying the sight. The young Leonardo McCoy had matured nicely, his shoulder length hair refusing to stay neatly in a tail, one lock stubbornly falling over his eyes. Those eyes were sparkling and changeable, hiding nothing from the world. Giacomo smiled to himself as he catalogued Leonardo’s features, from his heart shaped face and plush lips to wide shoulders and strong body. Yes, Leonardo McCoy cut a fine figure of a man and Giacomo was gratified to find that Leonardo still seemed to find him attractive.

“Tell me, Signor Doctor, are you married?”

Leonardo snorted. “Hardly.”

“So no wife then, to berate you for being out all night and coming back at dawn in the company of a courtesan.”

Giacomo was joking but did not fail to notice the delay in Leonardo’s answer, the pursing of his lips, the way his eyes unfocused for a moment. It was all too brief and impossible for any other to catch. He wondered what, or who, had broken the man before him, turned him from a naïve, but oh so hopeful, youth into a cynical man. Leonardo was too skilled and too handsome and far too young to be so bitter.

“You are a talented healer, a handsome man. Why is it impossible?” Giacomo prodded. “Any lady would consider herself lucky to make such a match.”

“Jocelina was not just _any_ lady,” he murmured before turning to peer at Giacomo’s face, his eyes straining in the dim light. “I am uninteresting and would rather hear about you. How did you come to be a courtesan?”

“I had to study for three years. Do you know that they actually teach it at universities now?” Giacomo managed to keep his voice absolutely earnest. He had already discovered that he liked teasing this man and he wanted to see those dark eyes widen in incredulous surprise.

And Leonardo’s eyes did widen. “They what? My mama would be scandalized.” He grumbled. “And just what is there to teach? A pretty face, a willingness to spread your legs. How hard can it be?”

Utterly delighted by Leonardo’s reaction, Giacomo chuckled. “Why do you not try it and find out?”

“Find out?!” Leonardo spluttered. “I studied at the university here! Knew more than my damned tutors! I am not squandering my uncle’s patronage to spend my life on my knees!” He caught his breath, and murmured quietly, “Not pretty enough, besides.”

Giacomo laughed softly. “I am not sure if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.” He canted his head. “Who is your uncle?”

“Cristoforo Picca. He is my mother’s younger brother.”

“I see.” Giacomo leaned back against the padded backrest of his bench. He debated if he should tell Leonardo that his uncle did not mind courtesans or that his cousin liked them very much indeed.

They turned slightly, making room in the narrow canal for another gondola filled with lanterns and gaily laughing youths. Their gondola was illuminated for a few minutes, nothing longer, but it was long enough for Giacomo to be bathed in golden light. He watched Leonardo’s eyes roam eagerly, stretched under the appreciative gaze, before Leonardo hastily turned away.

“Dammit, Giacomo!” he hissed. “Those are the second sons of many of my better clients! What will be said of me now?”

“Why, they would say you must be doing very well in your trade if you can afford my services.” Giacomo sighed. “Look here, Signor McCoy. You have been insulting me from the moment we met. Even a creature as good-natured as I has only so much forgiveness. Next time you say something nasty about me, I will dump you over board.”

Leonardo gaped, then ducked his head, completely abashed. Swallowing, he took a deep breath and lifted his head to meet Giacomo’s eyes. “Forgive me. I seem to have a knack for putting my foot in my mouth where you are concerned.” He sighed. “I did not mean to cause offense, but I simply do not know how to speak around you.”

Leonardo flushed brightly and Giacomo had to restrain the urge to tease him further. In truth, Leonardo had caused no offense. Giacomo had heard far worse from François and countless others. He was at peace with his choice. No, Giacomo found Leonardo more intriguing than offensive, but he also knew that he’d not be nearly as interesting to the young man if he simply took all the slings and arrows tossed his way. Keep them guessing was at its heart the motto of a courtesan.

“Ah, I believe we have arrived, Leonardo.” Giacomo purposefully kept his face schooled and impassive, his voice not betraying a hint of emotion as he waved Leonardo to the dock nearest his modest home.

Leonardo was reluctant to part on such terms and slowly stepped from the gondola, turning once his feet were on solid ground. “Thank you for the ride, Signore. I do hope we have the opportunity to meet again under better circumstances.”

Giacomo smirked up at him. “You have no idea what kind of ride I could give you... But as I do not deal with those who disapprove of me, you shall never know. Good night to you, _Signore_. And do give my love to your uncle.”

Giacomo floated away serenely while Leonardo gaped after him. _Perfect._

~~*~~

Leonardo was staring at his journal, the words blurring on the page and further refusing to come. His thoughts had remained like that, jumbled, hazy for the past fortnight already. His neck was knotted with tension, failure weighing him down. Signora Capello’s end was not as peaceful or as quick as Leonardo could have hoped. He stared again at his father’s notes. He knew there was a formula in them that could have eased her passage, but he was not making headway in finding it.

He twisted his neck, rubbed at the bridge of his nose and tried to force his meager concentration to focus on the pages before him. His thoughts wandered, yet again, to Giacomo and he dropped his head into his hands. Damn that courtesan!

There was a hard rap at the door and then another, followed by a voice that actually pulled a smile from Leonardo.

“Open up, laddie! You’ve been hiding far too long!”

Leonardo pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, shouting at the door, “It is open, you stubborn Scot! And I am not hiding!”

Scotty pushed the door open and glared at Leonardo, his strong arms crossed over his chest. He filled the door, and the room, with his wide grin. “You were! Else I’d have help with that cask that’s even now sitting in my basement!”

“A cask?” Leonardo blinked. When was the last time he and Scotty had sat, having drinks and talking?

“Aye. You have never before let honest to goodness drink from my homeland sit unmolested.” Scotty grabbed his arm. “So, off you go. You’re going to tell me all about it.”

Amused and cheered up in spite of himself, Leonardo shook his head. “Tell you about what?”

Scotty dragged them out of Leonardo’s home, closing the door behind him, never stopping the constant questioning as they walked. “Tell me why you’ve been ignoring me. Working yourself into an early grave. Why you’re not seen about as much. There have been at least two parties, and I know you don’t enjoy parties, but you would never have missed the glorious music at Vincenzo’s or the cooking at Gambetti’s.”

They were already in Scotty’s odd boat, when Scotty turned to look at him. “You always pull your head in, like a turtle, when you’re brooding. And this one must be a doozy.”

“I am not brooding!” Leonardo argued. Though he knew Scotty would not relent before he dragged the truth out of him, he was not ready to tell him the true reason for his mood, not ready to admit that some courtesan could affect him so much. “I had much work... Some of us _do_ work, not just tinker and play. I-I lost a patient... Socializing was not exactly high on my agenda.”

Scotty was eyeing him thoughtfully and silence reined for a few blissful minutes, but this was Scotty. Silence never lasted around the gregarious Scot. “You have lost patients before and you _never_ feel like socializing. This is something different.”

They turned toward the shipyards, the canal widening and Scotty’s engineering genius revealed as he picked up another oar and the craft began knifing through the bay. Leonardo marveled at Scotty’s tinkering. He had created something unlike the rest of the gondolas leisurely traveling the canals and waterways of Venice. It was shorter and sleek and somehow required only Scotty to row, but it was fast and smooth and comfortable.

He gave Leonardo a sharp smile and shrugged. “Hold your secrets, then. You’ll not keep them for long.”

Leonardo groaned. “Why do you always have to pry? Why can you not just accept a man’s word and let him be?”

Scotty laughed, but didn’t answer as he was busy slipping up against the dock near his workshop. His baby was freshly painted and gleamed in the sun while another craft was up on wooden planks, its hull in the midst of being repaired.

Once they were tied up and secured, Scotty leaped onto the pier. He offered his hand to Leonardo, clapping him on the shoulder, as he pulled him upright. “I pry because I care... and you need to talk. Keeping all that bottled up... ‘s not natural.”

“Who is the doctor here?” Leonardo grumbled. But he was grateful that there was someone who cared about him enough to poke and prod him until he returned to the living.

“You might call yourself a doctor, but ain’t no doctor you be needing.” He practically dragged Leonardo into his home. There was a stew bubbling in the hearth and the table already set. He grinned. “You need a lady, or a man, methinks. You are as tightly wound as the spring in the tower clock.”

“That’s your prescription? Do you think just anything can be cured with a drink and a tumble?” He shook his head. “If it were that easy, then no one would need my skills.”

Scotty bent down and rummaged in a cupboard before returning, triumphant, with a dusty bottle. “Here it is!” He nodded toward the table as he settled into a chair. “Not just _anything,_ laddie. Just what ails _you_ at the moment. You’re not ill or injured. Something is stuck in your craw, you’re worrying at it like I would a piece of meat in my molars. Fretting ain’t doing you no good. But getting your spine loosened? Now that’ll help what ails you.”

He popped the cork on the bottle and the heady scent of Scotch filled the small room. Pouring a measure for each of them, he lifted his glass and smiled at Leonardo. “At least share a drink with me?”

Leonardo sighed and dropped into the chair facing Scotty and took the offered glass. “You simply do not want to drink alone is all,” he muttered grumpily.

Scotty chuckled and clinked their glasses together. “There may be a wee bit o’ truth to that. No one here, save you, appreciates this fine beverage and I will not waste it upon their unschooled palates.” He sipped at the Scotch, his eyes never leaving Leonardo.

Leonardo smirked at him over the table. “Obviously, one has to have at least a drop of Celtic blood in one’s veins to appreciate your devil’s brew.”

“Devil’s brew, is it?” He shook his head. “Then I’m the devil’s own spawn, for as much as I love me ships, and the water, and oh those lovely courtesans, I miss this one thing. You Italians and your wine! Pffft.”

Leonardo chuckled and downed his drink. “Lovely courtesans, eh? Are you prescribing me your own medicine?”

“Do not scoff until you have tried it! I may not be able to afford the best of them, that renowned Giacomo fellow, or that extraordinary beauty, Veronica, but I can tell you their skills are worth the indulgence.”

“Il Fiore della Notte,” Leonardo murmured, staring down into his empty glass. “If I have to pay someone to sleep with me, how pathetic would that make me?”

Scotty filled his glass, nudging him to lift it once again. “Aye, I have heard him called that.”

Leonardo lifted the glass and sipped, his thoughts drifting to Giacomo and all that had gone wrong in their first meeting. Even if he had the resources to purchase a night with him, he doubted the courtesan would even consider it.

Scotty bustled about the kitchen, serving their stew before taking a sip of his own glass, canting his head as he gazed thoughtfully at Leonardo. “Pathetic? That is not the word I would use. You are handsome and talented enough to find a wife. It is only because you are so stubborn that you have not. Jocelina is not the only flower in our city.” He leaned forward and patted Leonardo’s forearm. “And paying for a courtesan is... fashionable.”

“Fashionable?!” Leonardo gave a surprised bark of laughter. “Your view of things has always been... peculiar, my friend.” He swirled the Scotch in his glass. “I have no use for a wife,” he muttered.

There was no surer way to sour his mood than to mention Jocelina. Women were all calculating harpies. What did his talent matter when his cousin Claudio was so rich that he had no need to work a single day in his life?

Scotty shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by Leonardo’s glower. “I am an oddity in this place, I always have been. But I see and hear things that others do not...” He paused and tipped back his glass, finishing it. “Useful things.”

He was being baited. Leonardo knew that tone of voice, had heard it countless times when Scotty wanted him to ask, to break down and indulge his friend’s sense of theatrics. His gut ached, the very mention of Jocelina, not _his,_ but his undeserving cousin’s wife, still had him twisted in knots. And he really didn’t care what gossip or intrigue Scotty wanted to share. He shook his head and kept his gaze glued to the swirling amber liquid.

Scotty huffed and sat back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Fine. Be an arse.”

His irritation didn’t last, it never did with Scotty, not when he had stories to tell. He pointed a finger at Leonardo and shook it saying, “You are brooding, hiding and not even attending the meager few gatherings that you used to. And it has nothing to do with that woman. She is old news.” He stopped then, his smile turning wicked. “But I have it on good authority that your cousin has not changed his ways.”

Scotty was adept at playing Leonardo and the few tantalizing tidbits he’d just dropped casually out like pearls before swine made Leonardo grit his teeth. He hated being so predictable, but Scotty had his interest piqued and knew he’d ask. Damn him!

“And what the hell does that mean, exactly?”

Scotty’s lips tilted up slowly, his eyes alight with mischief. “Seems your cousin’s a little too fond of Giacomo il Fiore della Notte. He was quite angry when Giacomo couldn’t accommodate him in his schedule.”

If Scotty had known what was bothering Leonardo, if he’d had any inkling at all, this bit of gossip would have been the last thing he would have spoken of.

“Damn that bastard!” Leonardo set his glass down so abruptly that some Scotch splashed out onto the table. “Does he have to lay his grabby hands on every pretty thing in this city?”

Scotty snatched Leonardo’s glass, saving it from crashing down and wasting his beloved Scotch. “Whoa there. What has gotten into you?” His brows furrowed and he frowned at Leonardo. “Since when do you care if your cousin’s whoring it up? I thought you said it simply proved that he and Jocelina deserved...” His words stopped mid-thought and he blinked. “ _Every_ pretty thing?”

Scotty sat back, his smile smug. “So you’ve already made acquaintance with the famed Giacomo?”

“I do not have to meet him to know he is pretty. Otherwise, he would not be so popular,” Leonardo retorted grumpily.

Leonardo hoped Scotty would just let the matter rest, but of course the infuriating Scotsman was not going to show him any mercy. Oh, he said nothing but he just kept staring at Leonardo with that smug grin on his face. And finally Leonardo could bear it no more.

“Oh, fine! I met him. Stumbled across him is more exact. Are you happy now?”

“You _stumbled_ across one of the most famous courtesans in all of Venice?” Scotty’s voice was tinged with laughter and disbelief. “Do you make a habit of wandering around the city’s bedchambers?” he snorted.

He poured more drink and waved his hand at Leonardo as if to say ‘Go on. Go on.’

“I met him outside the bedchamber, if you must know. I was called to Marco Capello’s house, his dying wife’s bedside. While I tried to ease the woman’s sufferings, the would-be-widower found comfort in Giacomo’s arms. We happened to be leaving the house at the same time, so I came across him on the stairs.” He saluted Scotty with his glass, marking the end of the story.

Scotty blinked and shook his head. He didn’t have to speak to convey exactly what he thought of the nobility and their ways. He’d said it often enough. Still, after a few minutes of silence, his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, brown eyes intent upon Leonardo. “And just when did this chance meeting occur?”

Before Leonardo could answer, Scotty barked out a loud, infuriating laugh. “Oh. _Oh._ It was a fortnight or so ago, wasn’t it?” He tipped his glass toward Leonardo, a too-knowing gleam in his eyes. “So the highly prized Giacomo has felled another with his renowned wit and beauty!”

Leonardo frowned. “You are making no sense,” he muttered into his glass.

“ _I_ am making no sense?” Scotty was near crowing by now and Leonardo felt himself sink into his chair, alternating between wanting to punch his dear friend and being glad that someone could find his predicament so humorous. At least it confirmed how pathetic he was.

“Why don’t you just scrape together the money and buy him for a night? Get it out of your system?”

Leonardo gave his friend a weak smirk. “That is more my cousin’s style.”

Scotty nudged Leonardo’s arm with his elbow, pushing until Leonardo met his eyes. “It is what Giacomo does, my friend. It is no different than someone paying me to repair their boat.”

Scotty was concerned about him, trying, in his own way, to be supportive and caring. “Besides, you need to do something. Your long face is being noticed, or rather its absence is.” He patted Leonardo’s hand. “I miss you, old friend. Do you e’en remember what those parties are like without you?”

Leonardo snorted. “I expect they are more festive without my long face to sour the mood.” He thought on his short encounter with Giacomo and sighed. “And without my cursed tongue to ruin the fun.”

“Your cursed tongue is half the fun! Without your direct manner, I’d be wading through all the nonsense and lies coming out of everyone’s mouths.” He shook his head, completely oblivious to the thickening of his accent. “Go on, now. Why the sad face? Is it truly Giacomo? I was only playing with you on that measure.”

Leonardo swallowed, shaking his head at Scotty. His friend was a wonder to him. He truly did not understand the nobility, the façades that people wore. To Scotty, people were no more complicated than his machines or his elegant ships. “It is not _merely_ Giacomo. He...”

He was staring off into the distance, trying to figure out how to put into words the jumble of emotions that single meeting set off inside him. Smiling ruefully at Scotty, he shook his head again. “I am a fool. It was a horrible meeting with me insulting Giacomo to his face numerous times! He was more than kind, considering. Though he gave as good as he got! Had me believing they taught his trade at the university!”

Leonardo flushed and took another large sip. “He is pretty and witty; I have to give him that. But I was rude, off kilter. It took me a long time and a lot of thought to discern why. Do you remember that story I told you once? About the attack I witnessed?”

“Oh, aye. The poor man dinnae make it, I recall.” Scotty was confused, so asked, “What does that have to do-”

Leonardo shushed him with an impatient wave. “Do not rush me. I’m getting there.” He took another sip of his glass which was mysteriously not emptying. “That man was Giacomo’s brother. They are the spitting image of each other!”

Leonardo sat back, triumphant, as though he’d revealed everything, but Scotty just sat there, blinking owlishly at him.

“Do you not see? Giacomo is merely a look alike for my first childish crush. And I have been moping because I left a horrible impression on him. But he is not _him._ ”

Scotty snagged the bottle and peered at it blearily, then looked at Leonardo before standing and very carefully removing the nearly empty bottle from the table. “You,” he pointed a finger at Leonardo’s face. “Have had enough to drink,” he said with utter confidence though his finger was swaying. “Me, too. Because God help me, but I understood all that.”

Leonardo chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. “Then your brew does have its use.”

Scotty kissed the bottle and grinned. “‘tis a miraculous thing.” He agreed, then got that look in his eye that Leonardo had come to fear. “And t’will see one more miracle today, or my name’s not Montgomery Fergus Scot.” He straightened and pinned Leonardo with a hard gaze. “You are coming to Ignacio Rosetti’s party if I have to drag you myself.”

“I am no courtier, Scotty.”

“Aye, that you have proved. But Signorina Gaila, l’Usignolo di Roma, is going to be there. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

Leonardo conceded. He always did have a weakness for music.

~~*~~

Leonardo felt a pang of guilt as he walked towards his uncle’s house. He had not visited for the past fortnight and probably would have stayed away even longer if Cristoforo had not sent him a personal message, requesting his presence. Leonardo loved his uncle and was always happy to see him. His cousin Claudio, though, was another matter.

He had no idea why Claudio disliked him so, but their relationship had never been easy. It had grown more tenuous after Jocelina threw over Leonardo’s suit for Claudio’s money and position. Leonardo had long ago realized that Jocelina had likely never cared for him. Even if Claudio had done him a favour stealing her away, it still chafed to see their smug, arrogant faces, and he avoided them as much as possible. As a consequence, that meant he saw his uncle less often than he would wish.

Cristoforo obviously understood all that quite well, for he asked Leonardo in his message to visit at any time convenient for him, meaning Leonardo could skip dinner and come later, safely avoiding his cousin and his wife.

It was well after dark when Leonardo knocked on the door of his uncle’s house, and he hoped Claudio was out, chasing the myriad pleasures the Venetian night offered. The door was opened by a young maid, who smiled coyly at him and stepped aside to let him enter.

“Signor Leonardo! It is a joy to see you again. You have not visited in so long.”

“Good evening, Simonetta. Forgive my absence, but I have been most busy. Still, I shall try to be available more frequently, if for nothing more than to make you smile,” he teased. “Is Signor Cristoforo available?”

“Simonetta, who--” Jocelina swept into the foyer and her eyes lit upon Leonardo. “Cousin!”

Leonardo stiffened, but turned, a half-smile on his face. “Jocelina, it is always a pleasure,” he lied, brushing his lips over her outstretched hand.

Her smile seemed genuine to any that did not know her, but Leonardo recognized the subtle glint of malice it held.

His former flame grew more beautiful with each passing day. The finery suited her, its golden threads and fashionably low neckline accentuating her coloring and shapely form, the pearls in her hair clasps gleamed mutely in the candlelight, their shimmer radiating in her honey blonde ringlets. Jocelina was a beauty, with full lips and glowing, flawless skin. If her brown eyes had sparkled with laughter instead of bitter coldness, she would be outright devastating. But she was his cousin’s wife, constrained by position and custom, the restrictions obviously chafing. Leonardo saw the hint of it in the tight set of her eyes and lips. Jocelina would ultimately be felled by getting exactly what she had so keenly desired.

He moved to step away, but Jocelina had other ideas and wrapped her arm around his, waving Simonetta away. “Go back to your duties. I will show Leonardo to Father’s chambers. Walk with me a moment, Leonardo. We have seen so little of each other of late.”

Leonardo’s feet were leaden, but he sighed inwardly and started to walk, steering them toward the staircase in the hope of reaching his uncle’s rooms as fast as was possible.

“How have you been, Jocelina?” he asked, trying to be civil. “I hope you are happy with your life?” He did not mean the sarcasm, but damn it, he was not good at small talk!

Jocelina’s steps faltered minutely, her smile freezing for the briefest instant, but she recovered quickly. She turned to face Leonardo as they ascended the stairs. “Such a life! How could I be anything but happy, Leonardo? I do not have to lift a finger, my every wish is fulfilled, _and_ I have a handsome, powerful husband. Life could not be better.”

She straightened her skirts as they reached the landing, her fingers lightly skimming the back of his hand. “And how is _your_ life? You have been scarce of late. Do you no longer have time for social niceties?”

Leonardo gave her a sidelong glance, wondering if he was imagining things or if there was really a hint of bitterness in her words. “I am pleased you have what you wanted,” he replied. “You certainly deserve the life you have now. Me? I have much work and little time for socializing.”

“You always did value your work over the finer things.” She clucked her tongue disapprovingly and Leonardo gritted his teeth. They had never seen eye to eye on this matter. Even while courting her, Jocelina had complained mightily whenever his work took him away from her side at one function or another.

They neared Cristoforo’s suite, Leonardo subtly speeding his gait, but Jocelina slowed and did not give him a chance to reply. “It is such a shame that you have not been out and about recently. You have missed the most divine parties.” Even though she had purposefully lengthened their walk, they had finally arrived at Cristoforo’s door. And none too soon for Leonardo.

“Well, here we are, dearest cousin. Father will be delighted to see you.” Jocelina leaned up and kissed his cheek. She tapped lightly on the door and turned the knob without a moment’s pause, smiling as she stepped away. “Enjoy your visit.”

Leonardo blinked after her, wondering what exactly had just happened, but he thought he heard a muffled ‘Enter’. As he did not wish to be rude, he opened the door more widely and let himself into his uncle’s sitting room.

“Uncle!” he said, in greeting, further words dying in his throat at the sight before him. He stumbled over the rug and felt himself flush as the door creaked loudly closed.

Two pairs of eyes turned his way and he inhaled swiftly, heart hammering in his chest. “Forgive me,” he stammered. “I have come at an inopportune moment.” He needed to leave, couldn’t breathe. Giacomo was on his knees before his uncle, neither of them wearing anything but silk robes, Giacomo’s far too small and near indecent.

“Leonardo! Come in! Come in, dear boy!” Cristoforo waved him forward, ignoring his embarrassment, or missing it entirely. He did appear occupied, one hand carding through Giacomo’s tousled hair, the other resting on his shoulder. “Ohhhh, yessss,” he hissed, looking down at Giacomo. “Right there.”

The courtesan’s hands kept moving rhythmically under the flap of Cristoforo’s robe, never faltering. He gave Leonardo a sidelong look sparkling with amusement, his lips twitching as if he was holding back laughter.

Leonardo didn’t move, couldn’t. His feet were glued to the rug. He swallowed. It did not seem possible, but Giacomo by full light was more perfect, flawless, and beautiful than ever. And here he was, pleasuring Leonardo’s uncle. Leonardo’s eyes followed the movements of the courtesan’s hand, trailing over his body at the too many teasing glimpses of enticing, pale flesh.

Cristoforo chuckled, his voice warm with amusement. “Come over here, boy. You must meet Giacomo il Fiore della Notte. He works magic with his hands, and this dratted leg froze up on me. Us.” He smiled fondly down at Giacomo, moving his hand lightly through his hair. “I might have overdone it, but ‘tis hard not to with this one.”

He looked back up at Leonardo and down at Giacomo. “Giacomo, this is my nephew, Leonardo Horatio McCoy. He is my sister’s son and a renowned physician.” His voice swelled with pride and he patted the settee again. “Join us, Leonardo. I have missed you.”

Giacomo smiled up at Cristoforo warmly, and then his eyes moved to fix on Leonardo. He did not say a word and his lips were still smiling, but one of his eyebrows quirked up slightly in silent question.

Leonardo met Giacomo’s gaze and his heart faltered, but the courtesan said nothing. It was up to him what he revealed. Sighing, he moved forward, stepping behind the settee and dropping a gentle kiss on his uncle’s brow even as his hands automatically began to knead Cristoforo’s shoulders. His uncle might have been retired due to injury, but he was still a powerful figure of a man with no wife to satisfy his urges. He should have known that Giacomo had not been lying about their association.

“I would not be a healer without your patronage, Uncle.” He smiled down at Giacomo. “And, Giacomo and I have already met, though briefly. I was my usual boorish self, completely incapable of even a single pleasant word. I am grateful word of my ill mannered temper did not reach your ears. I would not cause you embarrassment on my account for the world.”

Giacomo met Leonardo’s eyes, his eyebrows crawling up. “Are you implying you expected me to complain to your uncle, Signor Leonardo?” He pursed his lips and his look became sultry. “Believe me there are better things I can do with my tongue than tell tales.”

Leonardo coughed, nearly choking on a sharp inhale as Cristoforo began laughing. He reached up after reluctantly pulling a hand from Giacomo’s hair and tugged Leonardo around. “Sit, Leonardo.” His hand was immediately back in Giacomo’s hair, stroking. “And, you. No more wickedness. My nephew is unaccustomed to such talk.” Leaning down, he placed a kiss on Giacomo’s lips, no doubt soothing the sting of his rebuke.

Giacomo’s lashes fluttered down demurely. “Si, Signore. Forgive me.” But there was no trace of remorse in his voice or on his face. He shifted imperceptibly, and the slippery silk of his robe slid off one shoulder. He did not pause to pull it up, diligently keeping up his ministrations.

Leonardo was transfixed by Giacomo’s skin, it was flawless and creamy white, far too perfect and delicate looking. Here was a creature that had never done a hard day’s work under the heated sun. Blinking, he tried to pull his eyes from the silken flesh. With much effort and strength of will, he turned to his uncle and prayed to all the gods he did not believe in that he could make it through this without embarrassing himself more than he already had.

“So, Uncle, I hear that there is a new rising star amongst us. Signorina Gaila, I believe. Will you be attending her performance?”

“She is singing for Ignacio Rosetti’s birthday?” Cristoforo wriggled a bit on the sofa, settling more fully into it, his legs slipping farther apart as Giacomo’s hands continued to move. “I would not miss it. I have it from a trusted source,” he smiled slyly at Giacomo, “that she has not only the voice of a nightingale, but the countenance of an angel and the sparkling wit of a courtesan. She sounds almost too good to be true.”

“You will see that there is not a word of lie in that, Signore,” Giacomo murmured.

Leonardo made the mistake of looking down and froze. The flaps of the courtesan’s sky-blue silk robe, which could not be his or Cristoforo’s, slid apart, baring one pale smooth thigh, allowing a tantalizing peek at his most private parts, the parts that perked up under Leonardo’s gaze. Dazed, Leonardo fought for breath, feeling as if all the air had been suddenly stolen from the room.

His uncle seemed to have problems breathing as well, for Leonardo clearly heard him gasp.

“I hope I am not hurting you, Signore?” Giacomo asked Cristoforo solicitously, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“H-Hurting me? No.” Cristoforo’s voice was strained and breathless, his pupils growing wide. “The injury is merely t-tender, but please, do-do not stop.”

“Of course, Signore.” Giacomo’s lashes fluttered down, hiding dancing eyes.

Leonardo tore his eyes from Giacomo, scooting them up Cristoforo’s legs, only to realize that Giacomo’s hand was quite clearly no longer on his uncle’s thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate, and sick realization dawned on Leonardo. This was no mere massage, no matter how teasing. He had intruded in the middle of an obviously unfinished tryst.

When Cristoforo swallowed a soft moan and dropped his head to the back of the settee, Leonardo bolted upright. His face was flushed and heart pounding, half from arousal, half from anger. _‘Dammit, Giacomo!’_ “Forgive me, Uncle. I-I have forgotten an... an appointment. Signora... I will come b-back when you are less... indisposed.” He placed a quick kiss on Cristoforo’s forehead and walked to the door as fast as his legs would allow, only stopping before he left to toss an angry glare at Giacomo.

~~*~~

Leonardo scrubbed a dry palm over his tired face. He needed a shave and a decent night’s sleep. At least he was closer to perfecting his father’s formula. Although Signor Gambetti’s last days would be less pain-filled that Signora Capella’s were, he wished there was more he could do. He was a healer, it was his calling to ease suffering and he felt like a complete failure if he could not do so.

Signora Gambetti had taken the news more stoically than he’d expected, but the tightening of her features and the anguish in her eyes was more genuine emotion than he was accustomed to. Most times when he delivered such news there arose a great wailing and gnashing of teeth, all of it purely for show. But this, this was quiet heartbreak and Leonardo fumbled in the presence of such devastation. It reminded him too keenly of his mother and he did not wish to think of those dark days.

She was sitting on the bed next to her husband, holding his hand in hers when Leonardo tried to explain the medicines. She looked up at him tiredly and said, “I have no head for such things. Not now. _Please,_ call one of my granddaughters, but do not speak of this.”

“Signora?”

She straightened and looked at him, her slim figure and lined face still regal despite her pain. “The news of my husband’s state; I do not wish it revealed to any of our children. It would only cause them pain and there is truly nothing that can be done. It is better this way.”

Leonardo agreed and tried to convince her to take her own rest. “You will not do him any good if you are unwell, Signora.”

She only relented and retired to her chamber after considerable prodding from Leonardo and her granddaughters, one of whom was now sitting as the Signore’s nursemaid. He had heard rumors of their great marriage, a match made for love instead of power and had come to believe it when he’d seen the care and true affection she held for her husband as she tended him. It pained Leonardo that there was little more he could do; her husband’s illness was stealing the lady’s life and vitality as well as his own.

Leonardo closed the door behind him and sagged briefly. It was time to take his leave and try to garner his own rest, but he doubted he would sleep peacefully. He hadn’t in far too many days.

He began walking down the hall, careful of his steps so that he did not wake Signora Gambetti as he passed her chamber door. Just as he came upon it, it opened and he nearly crashed into... Giacomo? He staggered back, stunned.

Giacomo startled, but closed the door and shook his head, his eyes quickly scanning the hallway.

“What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?” Leonardo hissed.

Giacomo looked angry and grabbed his arm, dragging him away from the lady’s door. They stepped into the shadows and Giacomo pulled him close, whispering in a hard undertone, “Keep your voice down! She is exhausted and hurting and needs her rest. Surely even you would agree with that assessment?”

Leonardo wrenched his arm free and rubbed it. He might have bruises and when did such a slight creature become so strong? “I do not know what game you are playing or what the hell is going on here, but could you not, just for once, behave with _some_ propriety? The Signora is a grandmother for god’s sake!”

“Do _not_ make assumptions about me or about anyone that I spend time with.” Giacomo moved closer and Leonardo flinched away, the courtesan’s anger thumping him in the chest like a heavy weight. “You might find it hard to believe, but even courtesans have hearts that bleed when they lose dear friends!”

Leonardo was about to argue, to object, maybe not loudly, but once again he’d somehow completely offended Giacomo. And now Giacomo was gone, swallowed in the dark hallway, not even an echo of footsteps lingering. Leonardo stood there gaping for the longest time trying to make sense of what had happened.

He walked home, puzzling over Giacomo’s words. It didn’t make sense, but Giacomo had seemed to be grieving, to be genuinely remorseful. His anger had been quick and hot, but it felt raw, pulled from a deep well of grief. Perhaps he had once again misjudged Giacomo and the courtesan had somehow truly cared for both of the Gambetti’s? The pieces fit in no other way, but that seemed unlikely. The Gambetti’s were many years Giacomo’s senior. Leonardo considered that Giacomo must have been close friends with Signora Gambetti and had been doing nothing more than offering a supportive shoulder. He shook his head. Giacomo would never cease to surprise him.

He collapsed into bed, still rattled by the experience. The courtesan reminded him of one of those Chinese lacquered boxes in his uncle’s house: beautiful and deceptively simple, but with hidden compartments, unable to be opened without first knowing the key.

~~*~~

  


  
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“Gaila!” Giacomo pulled Gaila’s hands from her hair and the sleeves of her dress. “Stop fussing! Your fetching look is the perfect cross between being demure as a maiden and sensual as a courtesan.” He kept her hands clasped in his as the gondola bumped up against the dock.

“Jacques!” She protested, her full, red lips turned down in a displeased moue.

Gaila was more nervous than Giacomo had expected. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, then murmured soothing words against her lips. “You will break every man’s heart in there, ma cherie. You have no reason to be nervous. You will have so many offers of patronage that you will never want again.”

“There is none I want, but you. ‘Tis a shame that you have no interest in _me._ ” Her eyes sparkled mischievously, their dark depths once again rimmed in bright green. “Oh, that is right. I do not have all the right equipment,” she teased before tapping the door of the gondola cabin to inform the gondolier they were ready to disembark.

Giacomo grinned. “There is nothing wrong with your equipment, love, and I know for a _fact_ that I am not the only one you want. But I am a courtesan here, and beneath you.”

“I prefer you beneath me, J--”

“Gaila!” Giacomo tried to scold, but he was chuckling and shaking his head. He stepped from the gondola and turned to help Gaila out. As she straightened, he leaned in and whispered, “Do not forget, it is Giacomo. Always Giacomo.”

With the grace of a dancer, she placed her hand primly upon his arm, smiling and nodding up at him, as though transfixed by his words. They moved through the sheltered breezeway which led into an elaborately decorated park-like setting, lanterns hanging from every tree, sitting upon every surface such that the whole garden sparkled brightly.

A quartet of musicians was playing on a raised platform, a juggler and two acrobats were circling through the crowd which was mostly composed of Venice’s best and brightest young men, more than a few flamboyantly dressed courtesans on their arms. There were even a few of the city elders in attendance, Signore Cristoforo Picca drawing Giacomo’s eye. The man cut a dashing figure; despite his career-ending injury, he stood straight and tall, muscular and confident. The ever present laughter in his blue-gray eyes and the gentle smile upon his lips made him all the more handsome. Giacomo smiled and nodded slightly. He did adore Cristoforo.

A liveried servant announced them, “Signorina Gaila l’Usignolo di Roma and Giacomo Il Fiore della Notte!” and every head turned to get their first glimpse of Gaila. Her hand tightened briefly on Giacomo’s arm before they stepped down into the garden.

Giacomo patted Gaila’s hand and was about to turn to her when they were intercepted by Antonio Rosetti. He was young and vibrant, his dark eyes a vivid contrast to his fair skin. Being a younger, and still single, son he made a point of playing with vigor and this party was a reminder to his older brother what he missed by marrying. Antonio was resolutely single; his heart stolen by a commoner, and this was his way of showing his brother that he would not give up this life anytime soon.

“Giacomo! Signorina!” Antonio greeted them with a flourish and deep bow before kissing Gaila’s hand. “You honor us by coming to our humble party!” He offered his arm and Gaila took it, while he swept Giacomo forward with his free hand. “I must say, Giacomo, you did not lead me astray. Your lovely lady is more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

Antonio smiled at Gaila, “The rumors do you an injustice. Your mere presence has already illuminated the entire evening.”

He brought them to Ignacio and Giacomo chuckled silently to himself. Married life had already put a few pounds on Ignacio’s frame and the two courtesans on his arms, one male and one female, made it clear that his heavily pregnant wife was not serving all of his desires.

“Ignacio, please allow me to introduce Signorina Gaila l’Usignolo di Roma.” He moved back a half-step, allowing his brother center stage with Gaila. “And you know Giacomo well, if I remember correctly?” Antonio winked at his brother and whispered to Giacomo, “Give your lady anything she desires. There is still some time before she is to perform and now I must go greet Signor Claudio Picca. He is, as always, fashionably late.” Antonio rolled his eyes and hurried away.

“Signor Rosetti,” Giacomo murmured, bowing to Ignacio and giving a friendly nod to the courtesans. “May I offer my wishes of prosperity and fertility to you on your birthday, Signore?”

Ignacio extricated one hand and took his, gripping it firmly. “Thank you, Giacomo. My brother is trying to drive home a point and I, as the lucky beneficiary, am not complaining.” He winked at Giacomo before turning to Gaila.

“And who do we have here?” He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it. “By all that’s holy! An angel has joined us from heaven. Please, my lady, promise me that I am not dreaming?”

Gaila laughed. “That is hardly a notion I would wish to dissuade you of. So no, Signor Rosetti, you are not dreaming.” Then she gave him a sweet smile and batted her eyelashes. “I am happy to be a guest at your party.”

“I thank you for that. It is not often that I have the opportunity to have such an enchanting creature sing for me.” Ignacio looked up at the platform and then his gaze returned to Gaila. “Please, my lady, if you will excuse me? My brother has been going on and on about these dancers and I dare not miss a single moment.”

He reached for Giacomo and pulled him to Gaila’s side. “Take care of your nightingale, Giacomo. And make sure she has a good seat. We cannot have her missing any of the spectacle.”

“Of course, Signore,” Giacomo and Gaila answered him in unison.

Giacomo found a perfect spot near a jasmine covered trellis, far enough from the center to be out of the hustle and bustle, but near enough to be able to see _everything._ Once they were settled in comparative privacy, Giacomo turned laughing eyes to Gaila. “Told you you would conquer them with a smile. I hope your confidence is back now?”

~~*~~

“You dragged me out too damned early, Scotty,” Leonardo grumbled softly as they entered. They were some of the first to arrive and that irked him for some reason. It’s not that he was always late, in fact, he never was, he just didn’t want to be the first here, watching as the finishing touches were made to the garden. Antonio had gone all out and the garden had been turned into a delightfully decadent escape, made more so by the fine bottle of Scotch that had been tucked behind the unobtrusive bar hidden under an ivy-strewn arbor.

Still once they were both settled with a good view of the entrance, Leonardo found he was enjoying himself. The good liquor and the small plates of rather delicious tidbits only served to loosen him up and force him to relax. Scotty’s dry observations of the other guests went a good distance to improving his mood as well.

The party was in full swing when Giacomo and Gaila were announced. All eyes turned to the radiant pair and Leonardo stopped breathing even as his heart began to beat wildly in his chest. Gaila was gorgeous, her fair, porcelain skin near shimmered in the flickering lantern light. He had not expected a red head, and hers burned like fire, curling around her cheeks, to lap and caress her exposed neck and decolletage. She was attired in a fine cream dress, gold thread gleaming from it, obviously well made and fitting her perfectly.

Still, for all her ethereal beauty, it was Giacomo that took Leonardo’s breath away. He was clad simply, but the perfect cut of the rich cloth highlighted his fair form and made his pale skin gleam. Leonardo’s hands itched to release his golden curls from their restraint. He wanted to muss up that perfect coif and clothes, needed to see that smile and those eyes shine for _him._

Scotty gripped his arm and then leaned close, whispering into his ear, “By the gods! She is an angel come to earth. Pinch me, I must be dreaming!”

Leonardo heard Scotty speak, but the words were just mere sounds, their meaning not sinking in. His attention keen on Giacomo, Leonardo scowled at Ignacio’s hand on the small of his back.

Scotty elbowed Leonardo in the ribs, dragging his eyes away from Giacomo, who was laughing and smiling and flirting with everyone. Leonardo didn’t like the growl that was making its way up his throat, but he bit it off and turned to his friend, hissing, “What?”

“Quit yer mooning. All you need for that one is enough ducats. Now, Signorina Gaila is someone that needs things done proper-like. And that’s where you come in.”

Leonardo glared at his friend. Scotty did not understand a damned thing! Giacomo was not simply a thing to be bought and sold! But before he could start protesting, Scotty said something that pulled him up short. Leonardo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, laddie, Gaila is a proper lady. I cannot just dance up to her and start chatting. We must be introduced and then have chaperones so that there is not a hint of impropriety. You’re going to get me that proper introduction,” he continued, his tone exasperated when Leonardo seemed unable to follow. “She’s on Giacomo’s arm. You know him. You can convince him to introduce us.”

“Why would I do that?” Leonardo was not following.

“Because, I will sweep the lovely Gaila off her feet and you’ll be able to monopolize Giacomo’s time... for free.”

Leonardo crossed his arms over his chest and dug his heels in, not answering Scotty while he let his gaze roam the garden. Giacomo was beyond his reach and Leonardo had already proven that. Anytime he spent in the man’s company had Leonardo looking like a complete and utter fool. But he couldn’t deny the attraction, the desire that swept through him as Giacomo threw his head back and laughed. The courtesan outshone everyone, including the lady next to him, and Leonardo wanted so badly to be the one that had made him laugh, that had the right to touch him. Even worse, he wanted to be the only one that had that right. And _that_ was wholly impossible.

Sighing he turned back to Scotty and shook his head. “It will do you no good, my friend. They are as above us as the moon and stars in the sky. Neither of them would be interested in anyone with as few ducats as you and I have.”

Scotty clapped Leonardo on the back and grinned. “You leave that one to me and deal with your own. I suspect you won’t regret it.”

~~*~~

Giacomo glanced around and chuckled. Antonio’s guests were ogling Gaila, some discreetly, others openly. Giacomo nudged her with his elbow. “You are the main course of tonight’s feast,” he murmured, teasing. “Almost everyone here is salivating at the wishful thought of sampling what you have to offer.”

Gaila breathed in the aroma of the heady aged wine before answering, her voice low and throaty. “They have no idea what I offer, mon cher. Just as they have no idea what diamond you hide within courtesan’s flamboyant clothes.” Her gaze flitted around the garden and she smiled demurely at each man that met her eyes. “So, tell me about that one.” She pointed to a tall, thin man with pale skin and straight dishwater blond hair. “He looks,” she paused and canted her head, considering. “He looks as though he has a pole up his arse, in all honesty.” She gave Giacomo a wicked smile.

Giacomo chuckled. “That would be the only pole he has. Takes half a night of hard work for him to get it up.” He pursed his lips disdainfully. “He pays generously but it is not worth it.”

Gaila moved closer to Giacomo, put her hand on his arm. “So tell me about one that _is_ worth it. Show me one of these men that comes to you for a good reason, with a generous heart.” She then went on, “But do not stop there. I want to hear of the others, too. The truly decadent ones. Thrill me with your tales so that I can imagine those things and not be nervous when I sing.”

Giacomo gazed back at her with a well-feigned scandalized look. “Is this why you pushed me into this trade? So that I could regale you with dirty stories of my clients? And to think all those poor men believe you to be an angel!” He shook his head.

Gaila laughed fondly and slapped Giacomo’s arm. “I _am_ an angel. Now stop stalling.” Her eyes lit on Cristoforo. “Oh, who is that one? He looks very distinguished. And has the nicest smile.” She sighed dreamily.

Giacomo chuckled. “You always had good taste, ma cherie. That is Cristoforo Picca. There is someone with a generous heart for you. And enviable stamina. One of my favorite clients.”

“And now one from the other end of the spectrum,” she demanded, her eyes teasing. “A young one who is actually a wolf in sheep’s clothes.”

Giacomo grimaced slightly. “You might not believe it, but actually the one you ask for can be found in the same family. Claudio Picca, Cristoforo’s son. He craves males, but for some reason believes himself a lesser man for it. So he takes his disgust for himself out on his bedmates’ hides.” A frown creased Giacomo’s brow. “I have the strange feeling that someone treated him badly. I would like to get to the root of it, but I can only bear that sort of exploration rarely.”

Gaila turned to Giacomo, her wide, expressive eyes filled with concern and compassion. “He beats you?”

She seemed surprised, though why she would be, Giacomo had no idea. She had seen and lived through more of the brutality of man than one so pure and sweet as Gaila should ever know.

“Do not go to him anymore. It is not worth it, mon cher. I cannot stomach the thought of him hurting you. And I do not care what his reason is for doing so.”

Giacomo turned away, his eyes skipping over the crowd, unseeing. “Let us not go into that,” he sighed, his voice sounding strained and distant. She would be unhappy about _his_ reasons for doing so in any case. Then, with an effort of will, he pulled himself back to the present moment and smiled at his friend.

She was angry on his behalf, her eyes snapping, but her palm was smooth and gentle on his cheek. Even angry, with her lips pursed and color heightened, Gaila was beautiful and a force to be reckoned with. One day soon Giacomo hoped she would believe that again.

“Jacques,” she started, her voice soft, filled with regret. She looked at him and frowned for a moment, before leaning in and kissing his nose. “Never mind that. I love you, you silly man, and do not forget it, non?” She pulled back, her hand moving to link their fingers. “Now tell me of one who is fun. There must be one of these men out there that is not dreary, or dull, or bent on hurting you.”

Giacomo gave her a rakish grin. “Two, actually. The Moretti twins. Double fun. Look, over there. That is Dario. Cornelio should be somewhere around. They are never far apart.” As Giacomo glanced around, searching for the second twin, he suddenly noticed the man he had been waiting for. “Ah,” he breathed. “There you are. At last.”

Gaila tried to appear scandalized at the thought of two men with Giacomo, but she failed miserably and instead looked a little aroused and breathless. She fanned her face, intent on more questions, when Giacomo’s reaction stopped her. She turned her eyes, trying to follow his gaze. “Who? Who are you looking at?” She stood on tip toes and craned her neck. “Tell me right this instant, Monsieur Kirk, or you are in deep trouble.”

“Do not stare!” Giacomo hissed, pulling her down. “You are too obvious!” He moved so that she could look over his shoulder. “Look at the tree with green lanterns. There is a bench to the left of it. Can you see him?”

Gaila made another sweep of the garden, her eyes lingering for a brief moment on the two men on the bench. She turned back to Giacomo and canted her head at him. “I saw him. I never thought a balding man with such a sweet smile was your type, though he does seem to have a twinkle in his eye. Who is this that has you so captivated?”

“What?” Giacomo blinked and looked over his shoulder. “Oh!” He turned back with a soft huff of laughter. “Not _that_ one! The other. That is Leonardo McCoy, who has grown into a fine man.”

Gaila twisted her head and surveyed the other man, her eyes narrowed intently. “He does seem more your type; dark hair, expressive eyes, and lips that even I envy, but... does he _ever_ smile?”

Giacomo grinned. “I must admit his scowls are more frequent. But I intend to see him laugh. Even if it kills me.”

Gaila tapped her lip with one perfectly manicured forefinger. Giacomo well knew that expression. She was scheming. And whatever she had in mind was likely to cause trouble as it always did, but it would be great fun in the process.

“Very well,” she announced, her mind obviously made up about _something,_ and heaven help him tonight, by the look in her eyes.

“Very well what?” Giacomo asked warily.

Gaila gave him a secretive smile and somehow appeared wholly innocent, but that only made Giacomo more nervous. “Never you mind, mon cher. I will see that the evening proves to be _most_ enjoyable.”

They continued to gossip and Giacomo was enjoying his night off and the pleasure of Gaila’s company. He had missed his near-constant companion these last handful of years, and tonight reminded him quite clearly why Gaila was his most-trusted friend. Her incandescent beauty could not hold a candle to her sparkling wit and good humor. She never failed to pull Giacomo from his dark moods. He marveled at her once again. Gaila was so full of life despite all that had happened to her.

~~*~~

The lights dimmed as candles were snuffed out by more servants, a hush falling over the garden as Antonio Rosetti took to the stage. “My dear friends, we have a unique privilege this night. Signorina Gaila l’Usignolo di Roma has graciously agreed to entertain us with her incomparable voice. Please join me in showing the lovely lady just how appreciative we Venetians can be!”

The applause was thunderous as Gaila stepped gracefully from the shadows and appeared center stage. She curtsied to Antonio and turned to face the audience.

Leonardo snorted, his eyes focused on Scotty not the stage. The Scot was enraptured, his eyes blazing as he stood, mesmerized and unmoving. Leonardo loved music and expected Gaila to have an unparalleled voice, the younger Rosetti would allow nothing but the best for himself and his brother, but it wasn’t the beautiful nightingale that he was looking for. His eyes hunted the shadows. This was the perfect time to approach Giacomo.

Gaila began singing, her voice more breathtaking than Leonardo imagined. He smiled indulgently at Scotty’s indrawn breath before canting his head back to the edge of the garden. Standing just outside a wavering circle of candlelight, he found Giacomo. The courtesan was leaning casually against a stone pillar, his body relaxed, long limbs loose with one hand cupping a glass of dark liquid. His eyes were focused on the stage, the dark pools of them drawing Leonardo like a moth to a flame. Before he could even make up his mind, a straight-back figured loomed up beside Giacomo.

Claudio.

~~*~~

  


  
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Gaila’s voice was flawless, like a cut diamond, and it kept her audience enraptured. Giacomo smiled, breathing in the vapours of the aged wine in his glass. He turned his head to see what effect her singing was having on Leonardo, and the smile froze on his lips when he saw the man approaching him. He had no wish to deal with Claudio, not tonight. Still he managed to maintain a pleasant expression on his face.

“Giacomo, it is a pleasure to see you tonight.” Claudio’s voice was low, but the dry harmonics resonated. He moved to stand too close, obviously wanting something.

“Signor Picca,” Giacomo bowed politely, trying to look relaxed, even though his body tensed of its own accord, instantly remembering all the aches and pains associated with that voice.

“Your nightingale has an exquisite voice.” He wasn’t looking at the stage, instead his eyes bored into Giacomo. “I am certain Jocelina would delight in having her perform for the ladies. She would like that, yes? An invitation to perform for reputable guests during decent hours, instead of in such...” he paused and waved his hand, a broad sweep encompassing the entire garden, “tawdry surroundings.”

Giacomo brought his glass up to hide his pursed lips. “You will have to ask her to know that.”

“Speaking of other... better surroundings... I would like you to join me after this. I have need of you.”

Furtively, Giacomo took a deep breath. “I am sorry to decline your invitation, Signor Picca, but I am not working tonight.”

Claudio canted his head and pursed his lips. “You are not working?” He arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “May I remind you that a courtesan has no choice? You are _always_ working, lest the clientele decide you no longer merit their money.”

Giacomo gave him a sweet smile. “Oh, I can assure you I can afford a free night or three. May I suggest you choose some other courtesan? Or even visit your wife’s bed? Maybe then she would stop complaining of your neglect?”

Claudio stiffened slightly, his face growing cold even as he moved closer. “Never. Again. Mention Jocelina.” His voice dropped and he glared at Giacomo, his whole frame tense and ready to strike.

~~*~~

Leonardo was suddenly incensed and angry. Even from this distance, he easily saw Giacomo’s limbs tense. That was the last straw and he turned toward the edge of the garden, leaving Scotty in his wake.

He hadn’t made it even halfway when Cristoforo blocked his way.

“Leonardo!” he greeted, and Leonardo could do nothing more than return the hearty hug and affectionate greeting, giving Cristoforo the same two-cheeked kiss that he received. He kept one eye out for Giacomo and Claudio, watching intently even as he listened to his uncle, nodding in all the right places, he hoped, as he was teased for his discomfiture at their last meeting. Cristoforo was in fine form and devilish with his wit, but Leonardo was saved by a particular rousing aria from Gaila and excused himself to move toward Giacomo once again.

There was something about the rather fervent shake of Giacomo’s head and Claudio’s stiff shoulders that made Leonardo’s gut clench. He may not get along with his cousin, but surely the man would not force someone unwilling?

Leonardo stepped out of the shadows, near Giacomo’s shoulder. “Giacomo!” He turned to Claudio as though he hadn’t seen him. “Cousin! ‘tis a lovely night, is it not?”

Giacomo turned his head to give Leonardo a sidelong glance, a genuinely pleased smile flickering over his lips. “Now it is,” he murmured.

Claudio pulled back enough to level a hard-eyed glare at Leonardo. “Leonardo, go back to fawning over my father, or, at the least, return to that ill-mannered Scotsman’s side. You are out of your league here. You cannot afford Giacomo.”

Giacomo turned back to Claudio, his eyes wide and innocent. “Oh, but I told you! I am not working tonight! So I shall spend my time with whom I like.” He curled his hand around Leonardo’s arm and gave him a quick meaningful smile that lit his eyes.

Leonardo felt something heated and ugly grow in his gut. “I believe you heard the man, Claudio. His time is his own to give or withhold as _he_ chooses. And, as I recall, he already made it clear that he did not choose you.” He straightened and met Claudio’s glare, his chin lifted defiantly. He’d put up with a lot through the years but couldn’t stand by and let Giacomo be treated poorly. He himself had done enough of that lately.

Claudio looked at both of them, taking in Giacomo’s overly familiar hand on Leonardo as he sneered. “Do not over reach, _cousin_. My father will not live forever and his patronage and your good fortune dies with him.” Before he strode away, he hissed at Giacomo, “And, you. You forget your place at great risk. No one pays for an uppity whore in their bed.”

Giacomo’s smile became wicked. “I am afraid you do not know your compatriots all that well,” he murmured into his glass. “Tastes differ... ”

“We shall see...” Claudio’s voice trailed after him, the husky baritone making Leonardo pause.

“Forgive Claudio, Giacomo. He takes issue with me, but should not have taken it out on you.”

Giacomo turned to face Leonardo, standing so close that their chests almost touched. “You have appeared just in time to save me. My hero,” he grinned at Leonardo, eyes dancing. “I hope you do understand that now you must take me home?”

The air rushed from Leonardo’s lungs as a flush began to crawl up his neck. He shook his head, but his eyes never left Giacomo’s. “Your night is your own, Giacomo, and I would not impose. Besides, each time we have met, I have been little better than my cousin. Forgive my impolite words. They were hard and I was wrong about you. But doing the right thing in this moment does not make up for my previous boorish behavior.”

“You are right, it does not,” Giacomo agreed cheerfully. “You will have to sweat for my forgiveness.” He leaned in, crossing the last inch between them and pressing their bodies together for a moment. “That is, if you really want it and your remorse is not mere words?”

Leonardo’s breath stuttered in his chest, his whole being swallowed up with Giacomo, his eyes, his face, his scent, every breath dragging Leonardo further into the feral bright star that was Giacomo. “I meant what I said, dammit! Every goddamned word,” he growled.

“Good,” Giacomo whispered against Leonardo’s lips. He stepped back and set his glass on the stone bench. “I have a boat waiting for me. Shall we?”

Leonardo groaned at the light touch. Giacomo’s lips were soft, perfect and his breath tasted of aged wine and something darker, sweeter, and thoroughly intoxicating. Leonardo caught himself and kept from leaning further, from demanding more, but it was a close call. His head was swimming and he would have easily followed, probably would have jumped into the canal and swam for home, if Giacomo but asked him to.

But he was still a gentleman and a good friend. He hadn’t completely forgotten Scotty or Gaila. “I cannot. Not yet.” He leaned against the pillar to catch his breath. “Your lady, the Signorina needs an escort. I would not leave her alone among these wolves.”

Giacomo canted his head, a little pout curving his lips. “You are nicer to the ladies,” he complained.

Leonardo wanted to suck on that protruding lower lip, find out for himself if Giacomo tasted as good as he smelled. He curled his hands into fists at his sides and huffed out a deprecating laugh. “I am nice to no one. My friend, Montgomery Scott, is enchanted with the lady and begs that I arrange an introduction. I can vouch for his integrity and honor. He will see Signorina Gaila safely arrived home and you will have no need to be distracted by worrying.” His eyes danced as he let his voice drop and turn husky.

“Oh... ” Giacomo canted his head, studying Leonardo in amusement. “Is that all you wanted me for? To introduce your friend to Gaila?” He shook his head incredulously. “And here I was thinking you liked me. I believe my heart is broken,” he declared tragically. “At any rate, my pride is definitely in tatters.”

Leonardo felt his lips twitch, despite the lingering tension in his gut from Claudio’s tirade. “That is not all I want, Signore, but I have heard that pleasure delayed is all the more sweet.” He barely recognized the low, raspy drawl as his own, but he was all too acquainted with the heat suffusing his limbs and frame. The flirting was mildly surprising since he usually was a mess of insults and stumbling words whenever Giacomo was near.

“Hmm...” Giacomo cocked his head to the other side. “Pleasure? So you do like me, after all? I was not sure... considering the way our encounters tend to go.”

Leonardo flushed at the reminder of his harsh words. “I would beg your forgiveness, if you would indulge me? My tongue speeds on without my head to rein it in, especially whenever you are near, but I never meant to hurt you.”

Giacomo once again stepped in close to Leonardo. “I would. Indulge you,” he assured. “So tell me - what else speeds on when I am near?” he murmured, the blue ring of his irises growing even narrower as his pupils widened.

Leonardo drew a harsh breath in through his nose, his hands itching to reach out and see if Giacomo’s skin was as soft as it seemed. He was drowning, lost in the deep pools of Giacomo’s eyes. The garden, the entire world was blotted out as his senses, every fiber of his being, oriented on Giacomo as though there was nothing else. The words were caught in his throat, his heart thundering in his ears, and he could barely eke out a single word, “Everything,” before giving into temptation and pulling Giacomo close, into the shadows.

Giacomo chuckled softly and yielded, his arms slipping around Leonardo’s waist, cutting off any escape for him. His breath was ghosting over Leonardo’s lips but he remained still, as if daring Leonardo to make the first move.

The air was charged between them. Leonardo didn’t understand the power that Giacomo had over him, but he was tired of being so careful, too cautious, and unsure. He wanted Giacomo with a depth and passion he’d never felt before and he took Giacomo’s stillness not as a rejection, but as an offering. This moment was for him to do with what he would.

With his heart threatening to burst from his ribs, he reached up, cupped Giacomo’s cheek and closed the little distance between them. The first brush of lips was electric and Leonardo moaned, his whole body demanding that he get closer, deeper, _now!_

Giacomo’s lips parted at the light touch, as if to swallow Leonardo’s moan. He fisted the fabric of Leonardo’s doublet, pulling them even closer together.

Leonardo gasped and dove in, his tongue snaking out to taste, to touch, to tease even as his hand slipped to Giacomo’s back. His palm slid on silk and caressed lean muscle before dropping lower to rest on a perfect globe, pert and firm. He gave Giacomo’s buttock a gentle squeeze, their tongues tangling. Giacomo was cool under Leonardo’s lips, but he was soft and pliant and perfect and Leonardo never wanted to stop kissing him, never needed to draw breath again.

Giacomo murmured his approval into the kiss, and his hips rocked forward provocatively, nudging, teasing, tempting.

Spots began to dance behind Leonardo’s closed eyelids and he reluctantly pulled away. Giacomo was desire incarnate and Leonardo had given in, could no longer think straight. “You,” he gasped and leaned in for another taste, one more moment before he finally withdrew. He was panting, wrecked, desperate from a kiss, his cock straining at his breeches. There was no way he was fit to leave the shadows and Giacomo’s very presence was ensuring that Leonardo could not compose himself.

Giacomo laughed breathlessly and brought one hand up to cup Leonardo’s cheek. “Later,” he promised. Then he laughed again. “I have heard that pleasure delayed is all the more sweet.”

Giacomo’s palm was smooth and soft, its coolness offered some measure of control as Leonardo dropped his hand back against the pillar. His grin was crooked even as he groaned at his own words being used against him. Instead of tasting Giacomo’s lips again, the temptation was so strong, he lifted his other hand and kissed the palm. “I will hold you to that promise.”

“Si, you will,” Giacomo murmured, his dark bottomless eyes never leaving Leonardo’s face.

The audience erupted with loud applause and cheers and Leonardo flushed as he realized that he had completely missed Gaila’s performance. “We should attend to our friends, then we can carry on... somewhere more quiet.”

Giacomo smiled. “Then go fetch your friend.”

Blinded by Giacomo’s smile, Leonardo blinked stupidly for a moment. He inhaled deeply, tried to straighten his clothes and nodded. His speeding pulse was not slowing and his cock stubbornly refused to subside even as he willed it down. He took a deep breath and touched Giacomo’s cheek, a brief caress just to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming before he stepped back into the light and strode away.

~~*~~

Gaila bloomed with exhilaration, her features flushed and glowing. She was more beautiful now than ever, tendrils of crimson hair escaping their elaborate confines and Giacomo smiled gently at her, pride and deepest affection suffusing him. He so wanted her to be happy and now, basking in the regard of these nobles, she truly seemed to be.

Antonio and Ignacio were both standing with her, offering introductions with Ignacio subtly running interference against any impropriety from their guests. Giacomo was gratified to see that even the courtesans expressed their appreciation.

He waited as patiently as banked desire allowed before whisking Gaila away. He moved her aside, an island in a sea of noise, the party, released from its restraint, was growing more festive and raucous in the background.

Before he could draw a breath, Gaila spoke, her keen eyes missing nothing. “You were not listening to me sing,” she chided, her eyes teasing him.

“I was!” he protested, but she knew it for the lie it was and he confessed. “I was... distracted.”

Soft hands slid through his hair, tucked a wayward strand behind his ear and she looked at him carefully. “Who dared? You were here to be my most ardent fan!”

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “I still am and always will be, ma cherie. And nothing or no one will ever change that.” He tilted his head, eyes quickly zeroing in on Leonardo and his friend.

Gaila followed his gaze and nudged him with her elbow. “Him again? This is unusual.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low purr. “So, go with him. Enjoy yourself on your own terms. I have innumerable offers for my favor and will be fine.”

“I cannot allow that!” he argued. “The entirety of this lot is beneath you!”

She turned her gaze back to Leonardo, her eyes taking on a mischievous glint. “So leave me with that boy’s friend. He looks safe enough and... sweet.”

Giacomo sighed, his worry for Gaila dissipating. “He has been vouched for... by Leonardo. I think only Cristoforo would be a suitable alternative.”

“Then introduce us and be on your way.” She said it with such confidence and command that Giacomo couldn’t conceive of arguing.

He escorted Gaila toward Leonardo and was unsurprised to be met in two short steps. Scotty was most eager and his whole demeanor cried out nervous tension. Giacomo looked at Leonardo, his eyes revealing for a brief moment the desire burning in his blood. Then he smiled and turned to Gaila.

“My dear, let me introduce to you Signor McCoy, a man with a kind heart and a biting tongue.” His lips twitched but he managed to stay serious. “And his friend, Signor... ” He cocked an eyebrow at Leonardo.

Scotty stepped up and gave a short bow. “Montgomery Scott at your service, Signorina.” He wiped his palms on his pants and grinned shyly. “You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard. Even the nightingales ceased their singing in awe of you.”

Giacomo pulled back slightly, allowing Gaila to offer her hand. The man was smitten and Gaila was enjoying it.

“It seems the Celts tend to flock together in the land of the Romans,” Giacomo murmured, amused. “And some of them are better with fine words than others.”

Gaila stifled a chuckle behind her left hand and Leonardo flushed brightly, wondering if Giacomo was ever going to let him forget his rash words. Scotty ignored his friend, having eyes only for Gaila as he took her hand and brushed his lips over the back.

Gaila winked at Giacomo over Scotty’s head before smiling down at him. “Thank you for such resounding praise, Signore. I do hope that those words were heartfelt and not mere platitudes?”

Scotty stammered for a moment, shaking his head wildly. “Oh, no, Signorina!” he protested. “I meant every word! I love music and have had the great fortune of listening to some masters, but your voice, it was like hearing angels.” He bowed again. “Please, if you allow, I am at your service.”

“That is so nice of you, Signor Scott,” Gaila smiled at him, looking sweet and delicate. “I am afraid I shall have to impose on your kindness and to take you up on your chivalrous offer. It turns out Giacomo and your friend, Signor McCoy, have a matter they urgently need to attend to, and that leaves me without an escort... Oh really, Giacomo, this is so embarrassing!” She turned to Giacomo, looking prettily and ladylike abashed. “Do you not think you should be the one making such a request?”

Giacomo bit back a grin and bowed his head. “Of course. Forgive me, my dear,” he said with all the proper remorse. “Signor Scott,” he went on, “would it be too much to ask you to escort Signorina Gaila home? Signor McCoy assured me you are a paragon of integrity and honor and would see her home safely.”

Scotty looked dumbstruck and then bowed deeply. “It would be my pleasure, Signor Giacomo. I swear that I will guard the lady as you would yourself.”

Giacomo’s lips twitched. “Thank you. Now I can be sure she will be properly cared for. And I will feel no guilt, or very little, for abandoning you like this, my dear,” he finished, turning to Gaila. He stepped closer to kiss her cheek. “Have fun,” he murmured into her ear. “We will share impressions tomorrow.”

Leonardo had watched the whole scene from a remove, his slightly bemused expression contrasted with the heat in his eyes when Giacomo turned to look at him. The unabashed desire he felt simmering between them was refreshing and sent his need flaring hot and wild.

~~*~~

His hand on Leonardo’s arm to steer him on the right course, Giacomo led Leonardo to the waiting gondola. He gave the gondolier directions and then stepped nimbly into the boat without so much as making it tilt.

“Come,” he offered his hand to Leonardo to help him get into the gondola. “We can sit in the cabin, so that no one would see you in my company.”

Leonardo sighed. “Have I not apologized enough?” he grumbled, climbing into the cabin and feeling his way to the padded bench.

As soon as he was settled, the courtesan slipped inside and straddled his lap. Giacomo chuckled and dipped his head, unerringly finding Leonardo’s mouth as if he had no trouble seeing in the dark. He swept Leonardo’s lips with his tongue, teasing. “... and no one would see what I’m going to do to you,” he murmured.

Leonardo froze until he felt cool lips on his own. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Giacomo’s slim waist, holding him in place as he gave in to the questing tongue. Giacomo was heavier than he appeared and far too cool. The physician in Leonardo wanted to care for him, keep him safe, but the man forgot all his concerns when Giacomo shifted closer, their groins brushing, making Leonardo moan.

The courtesan grinned into the kiss and his tongue slipped into Leonardo’s mouth, exploring. Giacomo rocked slightly against Leonardo, each little motion sending jolts of fire through his body. One deft hand slipped into the open neck of Leonardo’s shirt, resting against his collarbone, cool fingers gently stroking Leonardo’s heated skin.

Leonardo tried to keep his composure, to not arch and moan, and especially not whimper, but Giacomo aroused him strongly and effortlessly overwhelmed his senses. With Giacomo, he felt strangely self-conscious and inexperienced. Giacomo’s profession was pleasure, and he was singularly skilled, but there was something else, almost as though he was a mere initiate to some secret order where physical pleasure was but a stepping stone to a higher plane. Flushing at such ridiculous thoughts, he simply gripped Giacomo tighter.

When they finally broke for air, the courtesan did not pull away far, his quick pants skimming over Leonardo’s lips. “You, Leonardo McCoy, are utterly delicious,” Giacomo murmured and Leonardo could hear the smile in his voice. The courtesan’s soft, cool lips ghosted over his cheek and slid lower to fasten onto the pulse point beneath the corner of Leonardo’s jaw. Leonardo felt the tip of the tongue stroke his skin once, twice and then Giacomo pulled away. “Utterly delicious,” he sighed. “And so very tempting... ”

Leonardo blushed and shook his head. “Coming from sin incarnate, I will try to believe you, but _you_ are the tempting one.” He slid one hand up along Giacomo’s back, the silky fabric gliding easily under his palm, until his hand curled around Giacomo’s neck, keeping him close. The other slid lower, rested above the curve of firm buttocks, a full body shudder running through Leonardo at the thought of the pleasure this lithe form offered. “Wish I could see you. Your eyes, your lips... flawless. Everything about you is perfection. Beauty personified, Giacomo.”

Giacomo laughed. “How sweet! So you _do_ know a few fine words when you wish to!”

Leonardo grumbled, his face heating in embarrassment. “I am not an uneducated lout even if I seem to be whenever you are near.” He leaned forward, lips searching, sliding along Giacomo’s smooth skin until he found his ear. “I blame you for turning my brain to mush and other parts of me to steel.” He thrust up, allowing Giacomo to feel the hardness in his leggings.

Giacomo laughed again and glanced over his shoulder. “Soon,” he promised. “We have arrived.” He slipped off Leonardo’s lap and moved out of the cabin even before the bow of the gondola nudged the pier.

Leonardo gaped after Giacomo, his grace and speed and the promise in his voice leaving Leonardo breathless. His cock was already full and insistent and it took a moment to adjust himself so that he did not visibly announce to all what was going to happen. He had no idea why it was so important to appear proper, was not sure if it was for himself, or for Giacomo, in all honesty. He followed the courtesan and was struck dumb yet again.

Giacomo was standing on the pier, offering his hand, the street lanterns flickering above him. He was limned in light, his eyes fathomless pools, his skin near gleaming. Leonardo felt ungainly and awkward next to Giacomo, self-doubt surfacing. _’Why would Giacomo want to be with him? He could have anyone.’_

Leonardo took the offered hand, nodding gratefully to their gondolier. He kept Giacomo’s hand clasped in his and led him to his small home. It fronted an alley, but was clean with a large window at the side that looked out onto a small courtyard. He opened the door and gestured for Giacomo to precede him.

Giacomo walked around the room, touching things randomly and throwing quick amused glances at Leonardo. Finally, he finished the circuit, stopping in front of Leonardo. “So? Are you going to show me your bedchamber? Or do you want me here?”

He closed in on Leonardo, making him take a step back, then one more, until Leonardo felt the wall behind his back. Giacomo looked at him, his wide, dilated eyes crinkling with amusement. “How do you want me, Leonardo? Do you have any fantasy you wish me to play out for you?” His hands wandered over Leonardo’s body, and his lips were so close that Leonardo felt Giacomo’s words as warm puffs of air. “Do you want me to get down on my knees and take you in my mouth? Or do you want to learn how tight my ass is?” His voice was dark and husky, making the dirty talk all the more arousing.

Leonardo’s lips parted on a soft gasp, his body rocked by tremors. Giacomo’s words were beguiling, seductive, sent Leonardo freewheeling into his darkest fantasies. He shook his head, tried to fight off the overwhelming tide of lust that had his head spinning. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. Giacomo smelled delicious. “I want it all,” he answered and pulled Giacomo the final distance, their lips met even as he reached to free Giacomo's hair from the dark ribbon binding it.

Giacomo hummed his approval and deepened the kiss, pressing Leonardo up against the wall. To Leonardo’s gratification, he could feel that the courtesan was just as aroused as he was. Giacomo rocked his hips as they kissed, their clothed erections rubbing against each other. The contact was tantalizing and utterly inadequate. It made Leonardo crave more.

The ties on Giacomo’s shirt bested Leonardo for a moment, but he refused to release Giacomo’s mouth to ease disrobing him. Giacomo’s tongue was a wicked tool and Leonardo could only moan at the thought of that tongue on him. He wanted it, wanted everything, _now_ , and all at once. He fought out of his own shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to strip their torsos bare. Heated flesh met cool skin and Leonardo felt swamped and out of control.

Leonardo stabbed his tongue in, kissing Giacomo hot and hard, and demanding as desire tore through him. His hands scrabbled against Giacomo’s skin, pushing him toward the bedroom, grabbing a fistful of firm buttock and grinding into him. Giacomo stumbled backward, but Leonardo held on, gave him no respite from the heated kiss and firm embrace. He wanted Giacomo, wanted to _own_ him, make him forget there had ever been anyone else. The jealousy that he had not admitted even to himself made him near savage.

He staggered back, staring in horror at Giacomo’s bruised lips. This was not Leonardo, not how he wanted to treat Giacomo. He sagged against the wall, shoulders slumping and head downturned. “Giacomo, please... forgive me.”

Giacomo licked his bottom lip and frowned in confusion. “Forgive you? You mean you have changed your mind? You want me to leave?”

Leonardo’s head shot up. “No!” he shouted. He dropped his head back to the wall and looked at Giacomo from under lowered lashes. “I want to love you, treat you as you deserve, not merely take my pleasure, ravish you as... as those others do.” His stomach twisted and he bit back his distaste.

Giacomo looked at him for a long silent moment, his eyes too old and wise for someone so young. Then he put his hands on Leonardo’s shoulders, bringing their faces close. “There is nothing wrong with passion, Leonardo,” he murmured. “I want you, too. Otherwise I would not be here. Will you make love to me now?”

Leonardo moaned softly, lifting his face in answer as he brushed his lips gently over Giacomo’s. He wound his arms around the courtesan, one holding him as the other toyed with the golden curls, carding them tenderly. “I know you hear this often, but you _are_ beautiful. Ethereal. A fallen angel who graces us with his presence.”

Giacomo laughed softly. “More fine words?” He caressed Leonardo’s bare chest, his cool palms gliding over heated skin, fingernails dragging over his nipples, making Leonardo whimper.

“A fallen angel?” He shook his head and glanced up at Leonardo, trying not to make his amusement too obvious. “I thought you were a doctor, not a poet?”

Leonardo stilled Giacomo’s hands. His head was already spinning and they were not even in his bedchamber! Lifting Giacomo’s palm to his lips, he kissed it. “You inspire me. Let us take this elsewhere. My home is simple, but it is honest and I would love you honestly on a soft mattress where I can feast on every inch of you.”

The courtesan chuckled, his smile still amused, but warm. Obviously deciding to take pity on Leonardo, he did not press further. Instead, he stepped back and tugged on the hand Leonardo was still holding. “Then lead the way,” he invited, his voice soft and dusky.

The bedchamber was but a few steps and Leonardo’s heart hammered in his chest as stunned disbelief warred with overriding lust. The room was small and cozy, neat as a pin, the four poster bed leaving little room for more than a small side chest and dresser. Linen curtains covered a tiny, oval window with a gilt mirror hung above the dresser.

Leonardo took a breath to calm his tremulous heart. Biting his lip, he tugged Giacomo close as he sat on the side of the bed and gazed up at the courtesan. He reached for the ties on Giacomo’s trousers, but his hands shook, so he stopped as though asking permission.

Giacomo gave a throaty chuckle, gazing down at him with something that strongly resembled indulgence. “Are you going to ask my permission for every little thing?” he teased. “I am afraid I do not have the patience for that.”

Embarrassed, Leonardo snapped, “Forgive me if I am trying your patience! I have never done this before!”

Giacomo’s eyebrows crawled up in genuine bewilderment. “Surely you do not mean you are a virgin?”

“No,” Leonardo grumbled, a flush crawling up his neck. “But the few... very few men I have been with were quite unlike you, and I have shared no pleasure with anyone except my hand here in this bed.”

“So it is not you who is a virgin, but your bed.” The courtesan bit his lip, trying and failing to hide his amusement. Then he shook his head and took Leonardo’s face between his hands, making him look up and meet his eyes. “I assure you I am no different than other men once you strip off my gaudy feathers.” He smiled, his dark eyes once again laughing. “Let me show you.”

He took a step back and started getting rid of his remaining clothes.

Leonardo held his breath as his eyes feasted on the toned, lithe form. Giacomo was flawless. “You are as different from others as night is from day, Giacomo,” Leonardo whispered, his voice awestruck.

A strange expression flickered over the courtesan’s face, but it was gone too fast for Leonardo to pinpoint it. “You do not understand,” Giacomo whispered softly. “ _I_ am night.” But then he smiled and shook his head. “You are still wearing too many clothes.” Stepping back to Leonardo, he deftly opened his pants.

The cool air on Leonardo’s flesh snapped him out of the daze he’d fallen into. He grinned up at Giacomo, his confidence restored. Grabbing Giacomo about the waist, he tumbled them both back to the bed. “And you are impatient. Like a child on Christmas morn.”

“That is because you are stalling!” Giacomo laughed, rolling them and ending up on top of Leonardo. He pressed down and gave him a quick kiss. “I was worried that you merely get off by ogling naked men.” He cocked an eyebrow at Leonardo.

Leonardo relaxed into the mattress and rolled his eyes. “I _do_ enjoy the male form, firm planes and valleys, especially when sweat glistens on hard muscle.” He stroked his hands over Giacomo in time with his words, savoring the feel of soft skin under his palm. “I rather enjoy luscious, buxom women, as well.” He gave Giacomo’s ass a hard squeeze, lips curving up.

Giacomo snorted and rocked his hips down into Leonardo when his butt was squeezed. “Nice to know. But the question is - do you enjoy _doing_ them? Or just looking?” In a fluid motion he was up on his knees, straddling Leonardo’s legs, tugging at Leonardo’s trousers, trying to get them over his hips.

Leonardo let Giacomo free him, his aching cock springing up as it was released. “Doing them? Is that what you call it?” He wriggled until Giacomo had him out of his trousers, then he rolled them until he had Giacomo pinned beneath him, his mouth latching onto a rosy nipple. He pulled off and smirked. “I thought it was called fucking, or is that too crude for your sensibilities?”

Giacomo gasped at the assault, arching into Leonardo’s lips. Then he gave a breathless laugh. “And you started with calling it lovemaking!”

Leonardo teased the other nipple, Giacomo’s skin tasted very faintly of heady wine with a hint of something else, a layer of rich spices beneath it all. Whatever the flavor was, it was wholly Giacomo, and intoxicating. He refused to let the peaked nub go, but laughter burbled up. For him, it was lovemaking, whatever he said. Finally, he could no longer resist Giacomo’s lips and, moving upwards, he nipped them, then dove in. It was like diving into the lagoon, but he never wanted to surface, wanted the exhilaration to continue.

Giacomo wound his arms around Leonardo’s shoulders and returned the kiss, giving as much as he took. In spite of his obvious passion, he still felt too cool against Leonardo’s body, the only truly warm part of him was the hard cock pressed to Leonardo’s stomach.

Leonardo squirmed, wiggling until he was straddling Giacomo, their cocks brushing and legs intertwined. It was ungainly, but he refused to release Giacomo’s mouth or unwind his arms from around the trim waist. Giacomo felt too good, as though made to be in Leonardo’s arms. When his lungs protested, he pulled back, gasping for air, and gazed from heavy lidded eyes at the man below him. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “What do you like, Giacomo? What pleasures wring cries from your lips?”

Giacomo looked at him with eyes dark and sultry, his wet swollen lips curving up in a wicked smile. “Why do you not try and find out?” he purred, reaching out to tease Leonardo’s cock with the tips of his fingers.

Leonardo’s breath stuttered at the too-light touch, but he narrowed his eyes and focused on Giacomo, on trying to make the courtesan fall apart. He leaned down and let his lips trace along Giacomo’s neck, hovering over his pulse before sliding lower. He bit down on a pert nub while his hips took up a slow rhythm, cock sliding alongside Giacomo’s.

Leonardo was watching the courtesan carefully, felt the moment he ‘gave up’, relaxing into the ancient dance instead of being continually aware of every movement and subtly trying to direct the motions. He lifted his head and gave Giacomo a grateful smile as he mouthed the other nipple. “That’s it, my beauty. Allow me to make you feel good.”

For a brief moment, Giacomo’s expression was one of genuine surprise, as though Leonardo’s offer was completely foreign and rare. In truth, Giacomo was a high-paid whore and no client was concerned about his feelings, or whether he enjoyed himself at all. But Leonardo was no patron. He was Giacomo’s lover and did care.

“You are most welcome to,” Giacomo agreed, his voice tinted with warmth.

Giacomo’s smile was easier, subtly different, warmer, and Leonardo had to taste it. He lifted up, rested on his elbows and sampled that smiling mouth, tongue flicking over it and teeth nipping gently at it. He had quickly grown addicted to that upward tilt, the almost little-boy grin that hinted at mischief and wicked delight. He chuckled deep in his chest and slid his lips to Giacomo’s ear. “I love your real smile, Giacomo. What do you look like when bliss over whelms you? Will you allow me to see the real you?”

Leonardo moved to sit on his haunches and stroked his hands down Giacomo’s shoulders and arms, lifting each one in turn. He pressed them to the mattress over Giacomo’s head. “Keep them there. I want to be free to explore.”

Giacomo did not answer, simply smiled again, following Leonardo’s command, pliant and waiting.

There was an unbelievably gorgeous lithe body underneath Leonardo and he grinned, felt like a youth again, when he first spied on his father’s examination room and saw a lovely young woman’s breasts, pale and voluptuous. He took his time mapping the well-defined muscles, fingernails lightly scratching pale skin from firm pectorals, down a slim torso and over a hard abdomen. He leaned down and sucked a bruise into Giacomo’s skin, right into the flesh below his navel, breathing deeply through his nose as he did. Giacomo’s scent was so heady, rich and delicious that Leonardo’s mouth watered from it.

Giacomo was restrained tension under Leonardo’s ministrations. He was shifting ever so slightly, hands curling into fists, with hips and thighs twitching. He was holding back, or trying to, and Leonardo grinned, his lips curling up mischievously as he shifted his gaze to Giacomo’s face. Then, in full view, and quite deliberately, he tilted his face and touched the tip of his tongue to the slit of Giacomo’s cock. A pearly drop was perched there and he lapped at it, eyes never leaving Giacomo’s.

Giacomo hissed, his hips jerking. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his head back into the pillow.

Leonardo smiled, gratified. That reaction was real enough. He then did something that he had little practice with, had only tried once before, and, quite frankly, had hated. But Giacomo inspired all sorts of new thoughts and actions. This was no exception. He shifted on the bed, hovering over Giacomo’s proudly erect cock. With far more certainty in his movements than in his heart, he opened his mouth and sucked on the head, sliding carefully down while keeping his teeth covered by his lips. He couldn’t take much in, but the weight of it, the hard shaft felt right in his mouth. The mere idea of doing this, to Giacomo, was oddly arousing.

“Fuck!” Giacomo gasped, eyes snapping open. His hips were shifting slightly and he was murmuring, words indistinct and it almost seemed as though he was warring with himself, but he kept mostly still, allowed Leonardo the control, even as his fingernails bit into his palms.

Leonardo chuckled around the flesh in his mouth, sucking as he bobbed, his throat opening incrementally upon each pass. He wrapped a warm palm around the base and stroked in time with his movements, his own cock hard and throbbing as he ground into the mattress.

Giacomo’s murmurs were growing, his hips shifting more, until Leonardo had to press him down. Suddenly, he moved with lightning speed, pushing Leonardo off his cock, pulling him up the bed and pinning him to the mattress.

“I have been passive for long enough. My turn now,” he informed Leonardo, his eyes midnight dark.

Leonardo looked up, his lips parted in shock. He blinked and shook his head, licking Giacomo’s taste from his lips as he protested. “You gave me free rein. You could at least have let me finish.” He would have pouted, but he really had no objection to being beneath Giacomo and there was something in those dark eyes... something that made him shiver, turned him weak and breathless.

Giacomo grinned, utterly unrepentant. “I gave it to you. And now I am taking it back.”

His eyes lingered on Leonardo’s lips, and then as if unable to resist the temptation, he dipped his head and swept them with his tongue, pressing in, probing deeper, chasing his own taste.

Leonardo arched into Giacomo, opened his mouth and kissed back, eagerly pulling Giacomo close, the spit slicking Giacomo’s cock providing sweet relief as their cocks slid together. He didn’t remember any of his previous encounters feeling like this and he was already so close to the edge, his cock straining and balls drawn tight. “You keep teasing me and this is going to be over before it gets started.” He nipped at Giacomo’s lips and growled, “Want you, so damned bad.”

Giacomo smirked at him. “Doing it ‘properly’ was your idea.” He pushed himself up to straddle Leonardo. “You have oil?”

“Wasn’t one of my best ideas,” Leonardo rasped. His head was spinning and he wasn’t sure when, but he was certain that Giacomo must have magicked him, done some secret ‘courtesan’ spell that had him completely incoherent and stupid. He didn’t actually care and waved idly at the vial on the dresser. “I use it for my hands, but it should serve the purpose.”

“You use oil for hands?” Giacomo feigned shock. “Maybe you have face ointments somewhere around, too?” But even as he teased, he snatched the vial and deftly spread the oil over Leonardo’s pulsing erection. Rising to his knees, he positioned himself and slowly sank down, taking in the whole of Leonardo’s heated hardness.

Leonardo tried to explain his use for oil, how his hands were too dry from all the soap, but all words were quickly pushed from his mind as Giacomo’s cool hand enclosed his cock. The prep was too hasty, even with Leonardo’s minimal experience, he knew that.

His protest was silenced as Giacomo’s already slick passage engulfed him. He spared a moment’s hesitation at the realization that Giacomo had come to the party well oiled, but a pleasured gasp flew from his lips as Giacomo sank down and clenched around him. Leonardo’s body arched up and his head tilted into the pillow, his eyes slamming shut. It was too much; too good.

“Fuck!” he groaned, hands gripping Giacomo’s hips weakly. “Goddammit, man! Give me a chance to catch up!” burst from his mouth.

Giacomo’s chest was heaving as he tried to stay still. He looked down at Leonardo, his lips curving in amusement. “Are you complaining?” He pushed himself up and dropped back down, all the time holding Leonardo’s eyes, but was unable to keep the measured pace for long. Need spurred him, urged him on and he rode Leonardo hard, chasing sweet relief.

Leonardo couldn’t answer so only shook his head and thrashed, thrusting up to meet Giacomo, pleasure coiling tight impossibly soon. He was so close, Giacomo was too perfect and he felt his body spasm, his balls draw up. Groaning loudly and gripping Giacomo hard enough to bruise, his orgasm overtook him, obliterated everything in a sudden wash of color, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep. “Giacomo!”

Leonardo had the foresight and strength of will to open his eyes through the aftershocks.

Giacomo stiffened, his mouth a round ‘oh’, eyes wide as his climax roared through him. He cried out in ecstasy and seemed taken by surprise as his body shuddered with each spurt of his seed. He swayed forward and caught himself, staring at the fat droplets on Leonardo’s stomach and chest.

Giacomo’s climax, the pleasure and shock, complete bewilderment on his face was both gratifying and oddly endearing. Leonardo felt a smug satisfaction that he had not even had to touch Giacomo’s cock.

Giacomo shook his head as Leonardo smeared his seed on his chest then lifted a finger to his lips, sucking it in. The taste was completely unexpected, bitter, but not at all unpleasant.

He grinned and tugged Giacomo down for a worshipful kiss, careful to keep his hips pressed to Giacomo’s ass. He was not yet ready to leave the sweet depths.

Giacomo caught Leonardo’s hand and pulled it away from his mouth. “No. Let me.”

Leonardo was half-certain Giacomo sighed softly, but his attention was caught as Giacomo sucked on his finger, seemed to be chasing his own heady taste as his tongue swirled and teased.

Leonardo’s breath caught in his throat and he moaned aloud. Then the courtesan dipped his head, thoroughly kissing him, tongue twisting cleverly and firmly in Leonardo’s mouth. Leonardo gave in and simply delighted, hands sweeping the curve of Giacomo’s back until they settled on his ass. He was drowsy and pleasantly sated, a lassitude stealing over him as he finally detached from Giacomo’s lips with a small whimper.

He turned onto his side so that he could wrap his arms around Giacomo and align their bodies, sternum to knee. Leonardo would never admit it, but having Giacomo here in his bed and arms was almost better than the sex.

When Leonardo awoke, the bed was empty and Giacomo’s side grown cold. He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked at the sunlight filtering in through the curtains. He didn’t normally sleep in so late, but he also didn’t normally, had not ever, really, shared his bed with another.

He stretched and rolled over, his hand flopping onto a flaky patch of dried semen on the sheets. Despite the lingering unease and the uncomfortable way his chest was clenching with unnamed emotion, he smiled. He’d never had the opportunity for more than one climax in a night, yet Giacomo’s skill and responsiveness had him coming thrice!

With physical release and intimacy, Leonardo had hoped that his obsession with Giacomo would pass, would change from this intense longing into simple fondness and shared companionship, but last night’s activities had only further ensnared him. Giacomo’s pleasure was all consuming, beguiling, and entrancing; even more so than Leonardo’s own.

Just thinking of Giacomo’s face, lips parted and eyes wide with surprise, had Leonardo achingly hard again. He was grinding his hips into the mattress, his nose buried in the pillow Giacomo had lain on, a frustrated whimper bursting from his lips.

No one had ever affected him like this, not physically and definitely never in his heart. But how could he be in love with Giacomo?

~~*~~

  


  
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](http://pics.livejournal.com/weepingnaiad/pic/000hyx9q)   


  


Giacomo was whistling as he walked the short distance from the canal to Gaila’s home. The night sounds greeted him and he smiled. He should be working, two nights off in a row was unheard of for the popular courtesan, but Giacomo wanted to see Gaila and hear about this Montgomery Scott. It had been too long since Gaila had smiled like she did at the Scotsman and that made Giacomo’s heart light.

He clasped the knocker and banged it, smiling when a young maid greeted him. He had not yet made the acquaintance of any of the new staff that Gaila had hired, so felt the need to explain his presence. “Good evening, my dear. I am Giacomo, a dear friend of your mistress. I have dropped by to have--”

Before he could finish his thoughts, Gaila swept past the maid and into Giacomo’s arms. “Giacomo!” She entwined their arms and headed for the salon. “I thought you would never arrive! I have so much to tell you!”

Giacomo chuckled and patted her hand that was resting on his arm. “Missed me, cara?” he teased. “I am all yours. Was the Scot that good, then?” he murmured.

Gaila kissed Giacomo’s cheek and waved at the utterly shocked maid. “Please, Lorenza, let everyone know that we are not to be disturbed.”

“Signorina? It is not proper! Joséphine will be most upset.”

“Joséphine has known Giacomo nearly as long as I have. He is like my brother. Run off with you now.” Gaila shooed her away and closed the double doors behind her. When she looked at Giacomo, her eyes were flashing with mischief.

“So, I will only tell you everything, if you tell me first. Leonardo, he seems... sweet.”

Giacomo laughed and dropped into one of the armchairs. “I knew you would be dying of curiosity. Well... He _is_ sweet. Hot. And spicy.”

Gaila pouted. “That is not telling me anything!” She crossed her arms over her ample chest and glared at him from the settee she had settled on. “I mean it, mon cher. I will tell you nothing if I do not get details. Is he as handsome unclad?”

Giacomo sprawled in his seat. “Oh yes,” he sighed with a dreamy expression on his face. “His body is a feast to the eye. And to the tongue. His vitality pulses in him, hot and passionate, like his temper. And his voice... It is low and dusky when he is aroused... sensuous... with a hint of a growl...” Giacomo sighed again. “Although he seems to have no idea how attractive he is.”

“No idea?” Gaila shook her head. “I have never met a man that looked like Leonardo who was not annoyingly sure of himself.” She cocked her head at Giacomo, her eyes shrewd and knowing. “You like him, don’t you?”

Giacomo grinned at her. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“No, of course not. I can see quite well the way you light up when you speak of him.” She leaned forward and rested a hand on Giacomo’s knee. “It is good to see, mon coeur.”

Giacomo nodded, his eyes still dancing. “I think I shall keep him. Now it is your turn. Did the noble Scotsman deliver you home safe and unruffled?”

Gaila’s lips turned up into a wide, joyful grin. “He did, though I was far too unruffled for my liking. He was a _perfect_ gentleman.”

“What a shame!” Giacomo laughed. “Well, his loss, I would say. Let us find you someone less scrupulous.”

“Do not even think it! He is coming tomorrow to take me on a boat ride across the lagoon on his latest vessel. And you are coming with us!”

“No!” Giacomo protested. “I shall be bored to death. Why do you want to see him again, anyway?”

“Why? Because he is sweet and kind and he makes me laugh! Oh, Jacques! How I laughed! As I have not in more years than I can count! He is delightful and you simply cannot refuse!”

Giacomo looked at her tenderly. Yes, it had been too long since Gaila was that enthusiastic about anyone. “You do not need me there,” he said. “I will only be in the way. Besides, a courtesan is hardly the chaperone you need.”

“Then bring Leonardo. He and Montgomery are close friends.” Gaila was not going to be denied in this.

“Signorina? It is not proper!” Giacomo mimicked Gaila’s maid. “Joséphine will be most upset. Alone with three men on a night boat ride?” he shook his head. “Most unseemly. Especially as I am not sure I shall be able to keep my hands to myself with Leonardo so close. He is too delicious.”

Gaila pouted. “Unseemly or no, I want to.” She batted her eyes at Giacomo. “You would not deny me this, would you? All for propriety’s sake?” She got that look in her eye signaling mischief was not far behind. She was on her knees before Giacomo, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “What if Joséphine comes along?”

Giacomo chuckled to himself. Sometimes Gaila could be such a child. But then, she was still very young. And though her childishly rash behaviour might draw undesired attention to her, Giacomo did not have the heart to refuse her. It was a joy to see her smile so brightly.

He smirked down at her. “Pity you are not married. Right now would have been the perfect moment for your husband to enter.” He leaned down and, taking her face between his palms, kissed the tip of her nose. “I really have no idea why you want me there when you are going to have your funny Scot to entertain you. But if you do require me on that boat of his, Leonardo must come, too. But the invitation will have to come from you. I want him to have a chance to bow out of it if... his interest in me is spent.”

Gaila snorted. “As if any living creature could lose interest in you!” She looked at Giacomo, her head cocked and lips pursed in thought. “But this one, this Leonardo. He is different, is he not?”

A slight frown creased Giacomo’s forehead. “Now, what makes you think so?” He took Gaila’s hand and pulled her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her slim waist.

“I do not know. It is more a feeling than anything I can point to, mon cher.” She shrugged and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “But, if he treats you well, then that is all I can ask.”

“He treats me well,” Giacomo assured her solemnly. “Mostly,” he added with a chuckle, remembering his first encounters with Leonardo.

“Good. If he does not, I will be forced to hurt him.” Gaila was quite serious as she stood and straightened her skirts. “I will send a page around with the invitation. Just be prepared. Montgomery is mine, so you will be stuck entertaining Leonardo _and_ Joséphine.”

Giacomo smiled at Gaila. “Whatever you ask.” He stood and gave her a courtly bow. “I am at your command.”

~~*~~

  


  
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](http://pics.livejournal.com/weepingnaiad/pic/000hrwkx)   


  


Leonardo hurried to the docks, and Scotty’s slip. He knew he was going to regret this, but he also knew that Scotty had been walking on air since spending time with Gaila. The Scot wanted to show off his latest ship, but felt the need for Leonardo’s bolstering presence. If Scotty bribed him with some rare, fine Scotch, Leonardo wasn’t complaining and he sure wouldn’t mention that he would have done it without the bribe. Who could resist a Scotsman on his knees, begging?

Leonardo shook his head, snorting as he remembered Scotty’s antics to wring his agreement out. He still felt foolish, and like a third wheel, not to mention that his stomach was flapping and fluttering wildly at the thought of being on a boat. He prayed the sea was calm enough that he wasn’t bent over the rail the entire trip.

He stopped, blinking, as Scotty jumped to the pier from a small sailing vessel. Yes, it was, technically, a sailboat. It did seem to float on the water, and had a sail, but it was _tiny!_

“Leonardo! Right on time!”

Leonardo shook himself and looked at Scotty. “That is your ship?!?! You expect me to ride in that... that soup bowl?!?!” Leonardo was horrified, nerves roiling his gut. “You don’t need me! You need a goddamned sailing vessel!”

He was flailing and completely missed the carriage that had stopped at the end of the pier, until Scotty shoved past him and stood, reaching up to help Gaila step down.

It was too late now to beat a retreat and Leonardo seethed silently. Damn that Scot! Leonardo definitely remembered Scotty had said “a ship”. How could that... that _nutshell_ be called a ship? Leonardo knew he was going to pay dearly for his softhearted behaviour. Why had he allowed Scotty to talk him into this when as little as a look at the swaying boat was enough to make his stomach churn?

His inward lamenting was suddenly interrupted by the sight of Giacomo appearing out of the carriage. Stunned, Leonardo watched him help down a woman who, judging by her age, was Gaila’s chaperone. Then he looked over at Leonardo and gave him a smile that sent Leonardo’s heart aflutter.

Leonardo resolutely tried not to think about the last time he’d seen Giacomo, naked and flushed, hair tousled, his skin dotted with bruises and seed. He was already half-hard and frozen in place, and had to turn back to look at the ‘ship’ to adjust himself. He watched the little boat bob and had to close his eyes to will away the twist in his gut.

Now he had to not only survive this harebrained endeavor, but had to do so in front of Giacomo. Whatever Scotty had promised was not enough. Of course, if he could think of something besides Giacomo, debauched and glorious, he might be able to recall what the bribe was and demand greater recompense.

He prayed for strength and calm seas before turning back to the group. He stepped up as the carriage clattered off and heard the end of the introductions, managing to catch Joséphine’s name. Bowing politely, he offered Gaila a kind smile. He introduced himself to Joséphine, glared at Scotty, who completely ignored him, since he was focused exclusively on Gaila, and locked eyes with Giacomo.

“Ciao, Leonardo,” Giacomo said softly, smiling. “I’m glad you chose to accept Gaila’s invitation.”

For a moment Leonardo thought he could see a shadow of something brittle and uncertain flicker in Giacomo’s eye, but it was gone too fast for Leonardo to be sure.

Leonardo wanted to touch Giacomo, to do more than offer a casual smile, but he had no idea just what Joséphine knew of Giacomo and he’d not do anything to besmirch Gaila’s reputation. Giacomo was temptation any day, but somehow, standing here, he was so much more than merely desirable. The barest of breezes teased his golden hair, which shone in the moonlight, and his finely tailored breeches and waist coat glowed in the cool light, their sky blue washed out to shimmering silver. The whole picture completed by Giacomo’s eyes; those dark orbs, limned in blue that could still stop Leonardo in his tracks.

Ducking his head and inwardly laughing at himself, Leonardo returned Giacomo’s greeting. “I had no idea you were coming, but it is a pleasant surprise. Although the ‘ship’, if you could call it that, will be... cozy.”

For an instant Giacomo looked taken aback. “You were not told I would be here?” He turned stormy eyes to Gaila. However, he did not say anything to her, and taking a deep breath instead, turned back to Leonardo. “I’m sorry you were given no choice. I’m glad you find me coming along a pleasant surprise.” A corner of his mouth twitched.

“I may throw up on you!” Leonardo was serious, but he chuckled. “Sadly, I get a bit seasick, and Scotty bribed me with Scotch, which I hope will prevent my spending the entire trip clinging to the edge, greener than grass.” He continued in a lower voice, stepping closer to Giacomo. “If I had known you were coming, he would not have had to offer the Scotch. I-I missed you when I awoke.”

Giacomo sighed softly and smiled. “I’m a night flower, Leonardo, remember? Things that seem gorgeous and luring by candlelight might look faded and drab under the merciless sun’s rays. I’d rather the mystery and seduction of the night remain untarnished.”

“Beautiful words, Giacomo, but you are so much more than a night flower, there is steel beneath your ‘gaudy feathers’.” He used Giacomo’s words, recalling them clearly, as he stepped closer, so near, there was little space between them. “I am eager for this chance to have you alone, away from titles and trappings. I would know you, Giacomo. If you will let me?”

It did not seem possible, but Giacomo’s pupils dilated even more, his eyes growing almost entirely black. His lips parted, but no sound came from them. Then he shook his head and took a little step back. “Not completely alone as I take it.” He nodded at their companions boarding the boat. “As you said - the ship is going to be cozy.”

Leonardo had to physically restrain himself from following. Giacomo was enticement personified and he lost his head around the courtesan. With great effort he tore his eyes from Giacomo, from his parted lips, from those depthless eyes, and turned to the dockside. He groaned as he realized that the only remaining seats were in the front, manning the sail. “I’m going to kill him!” he grumbled under his breath.

His stomach was trying to leap out his throat, his body was irresistibly drawn to Giacomo, and he and the courtesan were going to spend their time together with his stomach winning the battle. “Perhaps it is for the best,” he replied sadly. “I do not do well on watercraft.” He nodded toward the boat, and pressed a hand into the middle of Giacomo’s back to urge him gently forward. If his hand lingered, no one but Giacomo had to know.

Giacomo chuckled and shot Leonardo a quick reassuring smile. “I’m going to be there to distract you and to cheer you up,” he promised.

“More like hold on and keep me from falling overboard,” Leonardo replied. Still, his legs moved forward and they all settled in quickly. Scotty was in his element and barked out sure, swift commands which Giacomo, far more often than Leonardo, complied with quick efficiency. They cut silently through the water which glittered in the moonlight, Leonardo’s white-knuckled grip easing as Giacomo regaled him with humorous stories. In short order, they were in the middle of the large lagoon, no other ships in sight, alone in the world, under a vast night sky, and Leonardo blinked, amazed. He was enjoying himself, utterly charmed by Giacomo and more at ease than he believed possible.

“Land ho!” Scotty called out, pulling Leonardo’s eye from Giacomo’s smile to the horizon where a small isle had appeared.

“What are you doing, Scotty?”

“We’re stopping.”

When Leonardo was about to bite out a sharp retort, Gaila waved him down. “Shush. We’re going to stretch our legs. You can cling to the side of the ship, but I have heard that there is a spring on this island where the water is magical, but only by night, and only on a full moon.”

Giacomo cocked an eyebrow at her, openly amused. “Are you planning to dip into the spring, cara? Aren’t you beautiful enough?”

Gaila blew a kiss at Giacomo and grinned. “A lady never admits to her beauty secrets, Giacomo.”

The island was rapidly approaching and Leonardo felt himself torn between anticipation and dread. He was eager for time alone with Giacomo, but was afraid that the courtesan would find him dull and no match for the moneyed elite he was accustomed to.

Scotty was shouting more orders and soon they were bumping into a small wooden dock jutting into the sea. Giacomo leapt up and grabbed the rope Leonardo tossed at him, tying them off with deft skill.

Scotty approved the knot and patted Giacomo on the back. “Good work! You could always take to the sea, if your current profession pales.”

He snorted after Scotty, “Captain Giacomo, hero of the Seven Seas.”

“I’d be a great captain!”

Leonardo stood in the swaying boat, shaking his head, but smiling as he helped Gaila and Joséphine out before clambering out himself. Giacomo’s hand was cool, but strong, and Leonardo was, once again, surprised by the courtesan. He’d managed to keep Leonardo’s attention diverted the entire trip.

Giacomo did not let Leonardo’s hand go at once, pulling him close. “If you have no use for the spring of eternal youth and beauty, we could take a stroll along the shore?” he suggested. “You’ll have a chance to have me alone, away from titles and trappings.”

Leonardo’s mouth went dry and he could only nod, his ability for speech had fled as all the blood rushed south.

Giacomo gave Gaila a silent sign, indicating that he and Leonardo were going to take a walk. Leonardo just stood there dumbly, his hand still in Giacomo’s as Gaila took Scotty’s arm and dragged him away, her happy chatter lingering on the air. Joséphine glanced back, once, her head cocked in inquiry, but Giacomo nodded and she trailed after Gaila and Scotty.

“Shall we?” Giacomo tugged on Leonardo’s hand again and started walking slowing along the water edge. “Tell me about yourself, Leonardo,” he invited. “How did you get to Venice? You used to live in Bologna, didn’t you?”

Leonardo followed Giacomo, skirting the waves lapping on the sand to keep his boots from getting wet. The night was just right, warm without being sultry and he was tempted to strip off his boots and roll up his pants. He stilled for a moment as Giacomo asked about him. He looked at Giacomo, eyes lingering as he shook his head. “My life is quite dull, truly. I... we,” he amended, “came here to live with my uncle after--”

He swallowed, his voice choked as memory swamped him, his eyes gazing across the sea. “My father died.” He barely finished above a whisper. It still hurt to think of losing him, how broken his mother had been, still was, really. She moved into a convent and Cristoforo had taken up Leonardo’s raising.

“I’m sorry,” Giacomo murmured, gently squeezing Leonardo’s hand. “Forgive me for bringing it up. I didn’t know...”

Leonardo’s head jerked back to Giacomo and he shook it, tugging Giacomo close. Somehow Giacomo’s apology made him feel guilty. He sighed, wrapped his arms about Giacomo, wanting the comfort. “Not your fault. You could not know. I-I do not speak of it. One minute he was there, so full of life, making Mother laugh and doing his damnedst to heal... everyone.” He tightened his arms before continuing. “Then the next, there was an accident in his laboratory. I still do not know how it happened, but he was always tinkering out there until all hours of the night. He’d become obsessed with figuring compounds out, anything to help his patients. There was a fire... and h-he was gone.”

Giacomo stroked his back in soothing circles. “It must have been a tremendous shock for you. Such loss rips one’s heart open... How old were you?”

Leonardo blinked back the wetness from his eyes. He was too old to cry about this after so many years! But Giacomo’s comfort, the tone of his voice, the sheer understanding forced long-buried emotions to surface. “I was fourteen. I wanted so badly to take care of Mother. To provide for her, but Uncle would not hear of it. He swooped down and brought me here, insisted that I finish my education. Papi’s loss was the final event that drove me to become a doctor. Your brother, Jacques, and then my father. I saved neither of them...”

Giacomo’s hand on Leonardo’s back stilled for a moment. “You were but a child back then. I’m sure you did all that you could.”

Leonardo pulled away and glared at him. “It wasn’t enough! But I’ve worked hard since then. And I was the best in my classes, even better than my teachers. I cannot always defeat Death, but I fight him with everything I have. And I win, more than most. If I knew then, what I know now, your brother would have lived!”

For a moment Giacomo seemed to be stunned by Leonardo’s passionate outburst, but then his lips quirked. “I never believed false modesty a virtue,” he said. He let the smile out and it lit his face brighter than the moonlight. “I know from a reliable source that you are as good as you claim.”

Leonardo flushed, grateful the night hid his embarrassment. “I am sorry. Your brother’s loss and then my father’s... they did not sit well with me. I never want to lose another like that.”

Giacomo canted his head, studying Leonardo. “Tell me,” he asked curiously, “Jacques was but a stranger to you. Why was his fate so important to you?”

“I do not really know, but seeing the attack...” Leonardo drifted back to that night, could still recall it perfectly. “When he asked for help, I had to at least try...” Trying to shake off the unsettled feeling, he looked at Giacomo, puzzled as he said, “Maybe it was the violence, or that it was late, or my wits were addled, but everything in me wanted to see him live. I did try.”

“You were a healer even back then,” Giacomo smiled and started walking again, his steps as sure as if he were walking on a marble floor in broad daylight.

Leonardo followed Giacomo, but he had to concentrate on where he was walking so that he did not stumble. “I am sure losing your brother was hard. It seems especially unfair now that I know you. Do you have other siblings?”

“Losing our loved ones is always hard and never fair,” Giacomo replied quietly. He seemed to be somewhere far away in his thoughts. Then he remembered Leonardo’s question. “No. I have no one else.”

Leonardo stopped Giacomo and turned around. “No one? I am sorry. I had always assumed your parents still lived...” He entwined their hands and gazed at Giacomo and pulled him close to offer comfort. “I _am_ sorry, Giacomo. Even though my mother is not the same since father’s death, she lives and I have Uncle, as well. I would not wish to walk this way alone.”

“Oh! No, I didn’t make it clear enough. I have no siblings. My father died when I was just a baby, but my mother is alive.”

“So young? That must have been hard for your mother. What happened?”

“As my mother told me, they... we were traveling and were attacked on the road by bandits. Father fought them to give us a chance to escape. We survived. But he paid for our lives with his.”

He shook his head and thought about how hard that must have been. He had been fourteen, almost grown, but his mother had never been the same. He can’t imagine what Giacomo’s mother must have felt, watching her husband killed and then trying to raise two sons, even if Jacques had been older.

Suddenly Giacomo gave a dry chuckle. “You know, there are certain similarities in our stories. My mother has never recovered after my father’s death. And she has a brother who took us in. So yes, I also have the company of my uncle.” There was an odd tone to Giacomo’s voice, as if he had just swallowed bitter medicine and could not get rid of the aftertaste.

“You do not like your uncle?” Leonardo was fishing, but he was sure Giacomo’s tone was off when he said ‘uncle’.

“I am not as lucky as you,” Giacomo replied, resuming their walk.

“Forgive me for prying,” Leonardo said, but kept their hands linked. “It is hard to imagine that you do not have everything you want, the world at your feet. You could, you know?”

“Hardly. There is no power in this world that would be able to return those I lost.” Giacomo’s voice was cool as were his fingers in Leonardo’s hand.

Leonardo thought Giacomo was annoyed with him, but was unsure what he’d done. “I did not mean to offend. I seem to be rather skilled at little else around you.” He swore under his breath, hating how easily his tongue tripped him up. Giacomo didn’t seem to be interested in further conversation on the topic and Leonardo struggled for something else to say, a way to steer clear of the sensitive subject.

His eyes scanned the sand and were caught by a bright glint. He moved up the beach a few steps and then dug in the sand, only to cut his finger. “Shit!” he cried.

“What happened?” Giacomo called out.

Leonardo stood and fumbled one-handed in his inner pocket for a handkerchief. “Something cut my goddamned finger!” he bit out. He was holding his hand up, bright red blood welling on the pad of his index finger which was pointing at Giacomo. “Need a cloth...”

Giacomo froze, looking at Leonardo’s hand wide-eyed. A drop of blood slid off Leonardo’s finger and fell into the sand. Giacomo swallowed, swayed and had to take a step back to steady himself.

Leonardo stopped trying to find a cloth and reached out with his left hand, gripping Giacomo’s bicep firmly. “Giacomo! Steady there. It is just a bit of blood, nothing dangerous.” He gave Giacomo a gentle smile. “If you can stay upright, I will just find my handkerchief and deal with it.”

“ _Just a bit of_...?” Giacomo drew a shuddering breath and shook his head. He reached out slowly, took Leonardo’s hand and sucked his finger into his mouth. Giacomo’s lashes fluttered down, he seemed to be vibrating like a tightly drawn string.

“What are you--” Leonardo’s words died in his throat before he jerked his hand away.

Giacomo let go reluctantly and smiled, his eyes heavy-lidded and pitch dark. “When I cut a finger, I suck on it. Do you not?”

Leonardo swallowed and licked his lips, tried to focus on Giacomo’s eyes and not his mouth, his wicked, skillful mouth. He took a deep breath and shook his head, desperately ignoring the memory of Giacomo’s lips stretched taut around his cock. Clearing his throat he finally croaked out an answer, “Not... no. It’s not sanitary, dammit!”

“Not sanitary?” Giacomo gave a surprised laughter. “To suck a finger? You had no objection to other body parts being sucked. Is that less hazardous?”

Leonardo drew in a breath and turned away, gazing out across the water as he tried to ignore his body’s response to Giacomo and the steady thrum of desire coursing through him. “That...” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shrugged. “That is different.”

Giacomo chuckled. “Forgive me. I was just teasing.” He took Leonardo’s hand. “See? The bleeding has stopped.”

Leonardo blinked and looked at his finger, puzzling over it in the cool light for a few moments. “Well, I’ll be.”

“It was not a bad cut. What was it that you wanted to pick up?” Giacomo looked around.

Leonardo felt foolish as he pointed at the sand. It was a seashell, its broken edge gleaming brightly. “It caught my eye.”

Giacomo stooped and picked up the shell. “Here’s your treasure,” he smiled, offering it to Leonardo. “Take it. You paid for it with your blood.”

Leonardo snorted and took the shell. It was not large, but had beautiful swirls, mother of pearl inside with a soft peach and tan outside. He carefully tucked it into his pocket and looked up at Giacomo, giving him a mischievous smile. “Are courtesans allowed to be silly?”

Giacomo cocked an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, this!” He reached down into the water and scooped some to toss at Giacomo, flicking it at him.

Giacomo took a step back, laughing. “If you plan to get wet, it would be more comfortable with our clothes off.”

Leonardo’s heart skipped a beat at the bright and unguarded sound of Giacomo’s laughter. He straightened and reached for the buttons on his coat, giving Giacomo an inquiring eyebrow. “Here and now?”

Giacomo grinned, shrugging off his doublet. “Here and now!” he challenged. “Have you ever swum at night?”

Shaking his head, he undressed down to his trousers, carefully setting his clothes far from the water. He sat down on a stone and tugged off his boots. “I have not, but I seem to be unable to refuse any new experience as long as it is you suggesting it.” He wriggled his now bare toes into the still warm sand and tipped his head back to look at the star-filled sky.

Giacomo chuckled, a throaty, sensual sound. “Am I a bad influence then?” He stripped unhurriedly and unabashedly. Then he walked past Leonardo and waded into the water. “Ah...” he sighed in pleasure. “So warm... ”

A soft sigh pulled Leonardo’s attention back. He tilted his head down, his gaze lingering on Giacomo’s pale ass. He stood and unbuttoned his trousers, calling as he hesitated, “The water feels good then?”

Giacomo glanced over his shoulder, smile bright in the moonlight. “Do you want me to get in first and warm it up for you?” he teased.

Leonardo tugged his trousers down his legs, trying not to flush as he bared himself. His heart was still hammering from the idea that they’d be caught, but he couldn’t refuse Giacomo, and they seemed to be utterly alone. “Brat!” he shot back before striding rather quickly into the water. He didn’t stop until the water was washing above his navel.

The ground beneath his feet was squishy mud and sand, with a few loose stones and shells that caughth between his toes. He squiggled them and laughed as something tickled his thigh, a fish most likely, his eyes never leaving Giacomo’s lithe form, pale against the dark lagoon. He was standing closer to shore and the water lapped at hip-level, leaving wet trails in its wake.

Giacomo met his gaze, did not shirk from Leonardo’s regard, instead he stalked closer, gliding nearly silently in the water. Leonardo planted his feet and brushed away the fish darting around him. Butterflies flitted in his stomach as Giacomo approached. “So we are in the water. Wet. What do we do now?”

Smirking, Giacomo shoved him. Leonardo’s feet were firm on the earth, but Giacomo was fast and his leg shot out, wrapped around Leonardo’s calf, tugging it forward as he knocked Leonardo backward. Leonardo overbalanced and toppled under water. He exploded from the water, spluttering and cursing.

“Apparently, we do not swim,” Giacomo replied, his face alight with laughter.

Leonardo growled and tossed his head, long wet hair slapping against his neck, rivulets of water coursing down his face, chest and arms. “You little--” he started, then lunged for Giacomo, who sidestepped, quite effortlessly evading him, leaving Leonardo to sink into the water.

He knelt, considered his tactics and lifted his head to draw a breath, narrowed eyes landing on Giacomo. “Fine,” he conceded, standing slowly, arms raised in surrender. “You have outmatched me in the water, but I never admitted to being a fish.”

“You live in Venice, how can you not know how to swim?” Giacomo approached Leonardo, his head cocked to one side.

“It never came up,” Leonardo shrugged. He waited, shoulders slumped, body signaling defeat to lure Giacomo closer.

Giacomo chuckled. “And what would happen if your gondola capsized?”

Leonardo leapt forward and, with all his strength and forward momentum, crashed into Giacomo, pushing them both under the water. He kicked off from the bottom, long arms pulling, legs kicking to get as far from Giacomo as he could.

Leonardo flipped to his back and floated serenely, laughing quietly as Giacomo stood up. He rather enjoyed the sight of water sluicing down Giacomo’s skin, his hair plastered to his forehead and neck, eyes hot. “You-you! You tricked me!”

Leonardo arched an eyebrow. “I never said I could not swim. Just that I was no fish. Catch me if you can!”

Giacomo bared his teeth in a grin that looked definitely predatory, and then he dove.

Leonardo’s eyes widened and he flipped to his stomach, trying to see Giacomo’s trajectory. He started paddling faster, circling and turning, hoping to confuse Giacomo.

Suddenly strong hands gripped his ankles and he was jerked down under the water.

Leonardo gulped air and flailed, but didn’t kick out as he sunk in the water. Strong arms pulled him close, one wrapping around his waist another grabbing his ass. He gasped, sucked in water and struggled. They shot upward, his head breaking the surface near instantly and he coughed, spewing water. “Dammit, Giacomo!” he growled, but he was laughing, too.

The arms about him loosened and Leonardo turned, standing as he pressed their foreheads together. “Warn a man when you plan on groping him,” he teased. “Like this.” With that, he gave the round globe under his palm a firm squeeze.

Giacomo laughed. “I like surprises. But if you need a warning... Well, here is one for you: if we do not return to the boat soon, our friends might come looking for us. Would you prefer to go back or to wait for them here?”

Leonardo shook his head, eyes widening in mock horror, but he was smiling, playful and light. He reached up and smoothed the damp strands from Giacomo’s face. “I find myself unwilling to share glimpses of you like this with anyone.” He gave Giacomo a quick kiss on his nose. “There is a problem, though. We have nothing to dry ourselves with.”

“Wimp,” Giacomo teased. He waded out and shook himself. Then he wrung out his hair and swept the rest of the water off him with his palms.

“I like my comforts!” Leonardo protested. He followed Giacomo’s movements with his eyes, in no hurry to leave the water. “Nothing wrong with that,” he mumbled, finally dragging himself out of the water. He got a wicked gleam in his eye and shook his wet hair like a dog at Giacomo.

Giacomo ducked, but not fast enough and water splashed on his face and then back. He glared at Leonardo and then grabbed Leonardo’s clothes. “Do that again and you walk back naked.”

“Hey!”

Leonardo grabbed Giacomo’s shirt and coat and clutched them to his hips. “Fine. I’ll put your clothes on then!”

Giacomo laughed aloud. “I doubt those would fit your broad shoulders.” He put his hands on his hips and heaved a great sigh. “Surely we can negotiate a trade then?”

Nodding eagerly Leonardo moved close to Giacomo who was wary, but all Leonardo did was steal a short kiss. “Thank you for the wonderful evening, Giacomo.”

Giacomo’s eyes lit up and his smile made Leonardo’s heart sing. They were damp and bedraggled, but Leonardo had never felt more content. They kept their fingers intertwined throughout the walk back, barely beating the others to the dock. Leonardo was sleepy and relaxed and Giacomo’s thigh pressing against his provided the distraction he needed so that even the return trip was pleasant.


	2. Chapter 2

Leonardo straightened his clothes and tried very hard not to grumble in annoyance. If his uncle invited him to a party, he was damn well going to show up even if he expected to be bored out of his mind. With Scotty’s refusal to attend because it was not appropriate for Gaila to come, Leonardo was on his own. At least Jocelina would not be there to make him miserable, though Claudio most surely would be.

Leonardo sighed and knocked. He was late, just past fashionably so, but not so much that he was disrespectful. Hopefully, he could slip in unannounced.

Of course, that was not Leonardo’s luck. His uncle happened to be walking by, a statuesque, auburn-haired courtesan on his arm, just as Leonardo stepped into the courtyard.

“You’re late, my dear boy.” Cristoforo chided, but his smile was forgiving, making Leonardo’s gut twist with guilt.

He leaned forward and kissed his uncle’s cheeks. “Forgive me. I was... detained.”

Cristoforo chuckled and shook his head. “Do not think you can fool me, Leonardo. You dreaded every moment and dragged your feet.” He nudged Leonardo with an elbow. “There is fine food and drink and varied entertainments. Go, enjoy yourself!” Cristoforo pulled the courtesan back to his side and gave Leonardo a lecherous wink. “I surely plan to!”

Leonardo’s eyes followed Cristoforo as he made his way through the courtyard, stopping to greet and converse with all the guests. His uncle had an easy manner and effortlessly made everyone feel welcome. Sadly, Leonardo’s gaze fell on his cousin, who was, somehow, almost the exact opposite of his father, despite their similar hair and build. It had to be the eyes. Cristoforo’s sparkled while Claudio’s dark eyes were always cool. He stood stiffly amongst a cluster of friends, associates would be a more apt word, his expression formal and reserved.

Leonardo shook his head. Claudio could at least _try_ to smile. Before he turned away, Claudio met his gaze and Leonardo again wondered why his cousin seemed to despise him so. Leonardo gave him a half smile and short nod in greeting. Whatever Claudio felt about him, he would not return the disdain.

A scantily clad woman was twisting her body into knots and Leonardo was drawn forward, unable to tear his eyes from the seemingly impossible feats. He was intrigued and curious as she tucked herself into a cylinder, almost as though she was a ragdoll with no bones. He gaped, applauding along with the crowd.

A peal of familiar laughter made him turn his head sharply. He knew that voice so well already that he could never mistake it. Sure enough, taking a few steps away from the crowd and into a side alley, he found Giacomo sitting on a bench under a pergola. But he was not alone. Leonardo froze in his tracks, slipping into the shadows of a nearby tree.

Giacomo was in the company of one of the Moretti twins, Dario, if Leonardo was not mistaken. Giacomo was sitting sideways, his long legs casually draped over the man’s lap. Dario said something and Giacomo laughed again, tossing his head back. Then he replied, giving Dario _that_ look, the one which made its recipient feel he was the only man in the world.

Leonardo was so absorbed by the tableau in front of him that he did not notice Dario’s twin’s approach. Cornelio strode to the pair on the bench, nodding to his brother. Then he took Giacomo by the chin, tilted his head up and leaned down to give him a kiss which was too long and too thorough for a simple greeting. He murmured something into Giacomo’s ear that made his lips twitch. Giacomo nodded, the twins exchanged a glance, and Cornelio left.

Giacomo watched him go, and suddenly his eyes widened and a bright smile lit up his face. Leonardo could swear the courtesan was looking at him, but that was not possible. It was too dark for Giacomo to notice him standing in the shadows. Giacomo said something to Dario, stood up and headed Leonardo’s way.

Leonardo looked around, wondering how he could casually appear here as though he had not been spying. He tried not to think about the way his stomach twisted at the thought of Dario or Cornelio, or any other man, if he was honest with himself, touching, knowing Giacomo. He turned away, but was too slow and was caught.

“Leonardo McCoy!” Giacomo’s voice was warm and amused. “Are you running from _me_?”

“Giacomo!” Leonardo replied in greeting, his voice strained, but his smile genuine. The courtesan had that power over him, apparently. Leonardo leaned forward and kissed Giacomo lightly on each cheek. “I didn’t see you there,” he lied, not smoothly, but it was the best he could come up with. There was something about Giacomo that set Leonardo’s lips to flapping like the circling gulls’ wings.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Giacomo’s mouth. “Oh. Being inconspicuous is a terrible thing for a courtesan.”

Leonardo tore his eyes away from Giacomo’s lips, firmly refused to think about Cornelio bruising them as he nodded absently.

“You, on the other hand, never go unnoticed,” Giacomo went on, his smile becoming broader. “I’m glad to see you. It’s been a while since we last spent time together. I wish I could stay and talk, but...” He waved in the direction of the pergola and Dario. “I’m booked for tonight.”

Giacomo had somehow seen him and Leonardo flushed hotly, not completely from embarrassment. He didn’t know what to say, but did know that he hated the very idea that Dario would see Giacomo when he climaxed. That someone other than him would hear Giacomo’s cries and claim them for their own. He tried to keep his voice level and low, but jealousy made his words hard. “Well don’t stay on my behalf! Go talk to those who can pay for your time with real coin!”

Giacomo blinked and his smile died. “Are we back to insults, then?” he sighed. “I’m a courtesan and that is how I earn my living. But I have the right to choose with whom to spend what little free time I have. I was with you because I wanted to be. I did not realize you’d rather pay for my time than be with me as a friend...” He looked over his shoulder at Dario’s call. “I hope you’ll enjoy the evening, Leonardo,” he said softly before turning and walking back to his waiting patron.

Leonardo felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His mouth had gotten him in trouble once again. Like it always seemed to when he unexpectedly encountered Giacomo and was faced with the glaring fact that Giacomo was a courtesan, a highly sought out whore. He wanted to call out, to apologize. He desperately wanted to drag Giacomo away from Dario and promise him an impossible life, one that he didn’t have to pay for on his back. But he’d wrecked any chance at offering an apology and most likely torched what had been a promising friendship.

He trudged back to the festivities, sick at heart, and throwing glances over his shoulder as he retreated. Giacomo had never asked for payment, had been wondrous, generous, and fun and Leonardo’s payment had been callous and hurtful words... again.

Sulking he went straight for the drinks, swallowing a glass of hearty wine in a few gulps and demanding another as he glared at all and sundry, hoping to keep them at bay.

But damned if he wasn’t having the worst of days! After his second glass, a smooth voice curled around his ear.

“Liquid courage, cousin?”

Leonardo gripped his glass tightly and plastered a pleasant expression on his face, though he couldn’t hide the fire in his eyes. “Claudio! Where are your toadies, uh friends?”

He held his glass out for a refill and received a repressed smile from the maid as she poured him a generous serving.

“Enjoying the entertainment,” Claudio replied dismissively. “Where is that builder of toy boats you associate with? With the way you are putting back the wine, you would think you and he were kin.” He tilted his head up and looked down his nose at Leonardo. “And that I would believe far more easily than the farce that _we_ could possibly be related.”

And to make Leonardo’s humiliation complete, Giacomo and Dario reappeared at that moment, Giacomo noticeably mussed and Dario’s smile smug and self-satisfied. Anger burned in Leonardo’s chest just imagining what must have gone on. He growled audibly and Claudio’s dark eyes gleamed.

“Do you have a problem, cousin?” Claudio turned and gave a regal nod to Giacomo before continuing to goad Leonardo. “Oh, now I see. Drinking is to be your sole entertainment for the night.” He leaned closer, his voice cold as he whispered. “You could set your sights lower, to someone you _can_ afford, like one of the whores by the pier.”

“Spiteful, Claudio? Over Giacomo?” Leonardo frowned and tried to keep the fury pulsing through him in check. “Oh, but of course... You have the money, all of it, but must purchase companionship whilst I, with my modest means, still have what you do not: Giacomo chooses to spend his free time with me.” _’Or he did.’_

Claudio’s eyes narrowed as Cornelio waved at Dario and joined him and Giacomo, handing each of them a drink. “You are deluded, Leonardo. Giacomo does nothing that does not benefit himself. Just look there.” He indicated the twins and the courtesan with a subtle tilt of his head. “He will be quite busy between those two tonight. They pay well to have their confidences kept.” Claudio turned, his eyes boring holes into Leonardo. “And just what is it, exactly, that _you_ offer Giacomo? The pleasure of your company?” Claudio arched a single eyebrow and shook his head before walking away.

Leonardo seethed. He wanted to shout after Claudio, to cry out about his perversions, but he bit his tongue and swallowed another glass of wine. He was in his uncle’s home and would not dishonor Cristoforo like that. It didn’t keep him from glaring daggers at Claudio the entire evening, nor did it stop him from seriously contemplating the blonde courtesan with ample curves and a sweet face. His nearly empty purse did that well enough, though.

~~*~~

Leonardo looked over his shoulder at the gondolier, wondering for the umpteenth time if this was a good idea as he reluctantly waved him off. Of course, if he turned back now, he’d never gather his courage again and it had already taken him all morning to convince himself to do this. He’d been miserable, deservedly so, his head felt like it was being torn apart, and his stomach heaving when he awoke and remembered all too clearly what he’d said.

He gazed up at Giacomo’s home, just a few yards from the canal and halted. He looked around, noted the area, truly shabby, unkempt buildings interspersed with more gentrified homes, stately manors that spoke of wealth long gone, but status unforgotten.

Stomach fluttering, he took a deep breath and walked up to the house, knocking confidently as he gripped the bouquet of flowers in his hand tightly.

The first sound that greeted him was a low woofing. Judging by their voices, the dogs were large and meant business. Then the door opened and a man looked at Leonardo. “May I help you?” The two mastiffs flanking him sniffed at Leonardo noisily.

Leonardo felt a sense of deja vú and pulled back for a moment, unable to reply. Then he shook it off and nodded. “Forgive me, you reminded me of someone for a moment. I am Leonardo McCoy and was hoping to speak to Giacomo, if he is home?”

The man’s eyes flickered to the flowers in Leonardo’s hand and then back to his face. “Do you have an appointment, Signor McCoy?” he inquired, his voice polite but not particularly welcoming.

Leonardo had hoped that this was going to be easier, but it appeared that Giacomo had warned his servant about Leonardo. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, but I have a great need to speak to Giacomo. I assure you that I have nothing but good intentions, Signore.”

A faint smirk seemed to ghost over the man’s lips. “I am certain that you do. But Giacomo is sleeping and I will not disturb his rest without a sound reason.”

Leonardo had his pride, but he’d have to grovel to make any headway. “I know your job is to keep unwanted or unsavory people away from your master, but dammit, man! I am not dangerous or crazy! At least go ask Giacomo!” Leonardo tried, but his nerves were shot and he’d never been long on patience. He didn’t intend to shout at Giacomo’s servant and he fully expected the door to slam in his face, so he made one last ditch effort. “Please, Signore?”

The larger mastiff gave a warning growl and the man caught it by the collar. The other dog suddenly pricked his ears and bounded up the wide staircase. It scratched at a closed door, yelping and wiggling his tail.

“Who is it, Jérôme?” Giacomo’s voice called faintly.

The servant sighed and stepped aside. “Come in,” he told Leonardo. “Wait here,” he ordered, and Leonardo wasn’t sure if he spoke to him or to the dog, but both stayed in the hall as the servant climbed the stairs and disappeared behind the door.

Leonardo looked around and tried hard not to fidget. The dog’s eyes were fixed on him, watching his every move suspiciously, and that was a good enough incentive to stay still. He wondered what was going on upstairs, his muscles twitching as he waited. Suddenly a curious thought hit him. _Jérôme?_ Wasn’t that Chabrier’s manservant? From when he’d tried to get help for Jacques? The odd feeling resurfaced and Leonardo looked down at the mastiff, the large head swiveling to meet his gaze as a chill raced down Leonardo’s spine.

Finally, Jérôme reappeared, and as he closed the door behind him, Leonardo’s heart sank. Obviously, Giacomo refused to see him. But the man motioned to him grudgingly, “Please, come up, Signor McCoy.”

Leonardo eyed the dog beside him, but moved up the steps. He didn’t think the dog would attack with his master looking on. Still, although the dog made him uneasy, things felt oddly familiar and recalled that fateful night far too clearly for his liking. He nodded at Jérôme and pushed past him into Giacomo’s room. _Giacomo’s bedchamber._

It was dark, dimly lit by a few scattered candles in sconces and Leonardo’s eyes took time to adjust. He had never considered that Giacomo’s profession would require him to sleep by day, though it only made sense. “Giacomo?” he called out, quite unsure where the man was.

“Leonardo McCoy, what a surprise,” Giacomo replied from somewhere deeper into the room, his voice a husky rasp. “Dare I hope it is a _pleasant_ surprise?”

Leonardo took a few halting steps forward as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, drawn towards that sensual voice. When he approached the bed, he stilled, his eyes catching and held by Giacomo. Giacomo, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, barely clad in a dark silk robe which accentuated his pale skin, looked deliciously mussed, sleep warm and fresh from the still tangled sheets. Leonardo’s mouth went dry at the sight, at the idea that he was here, and all thoughts of anything but kissing Giacomo’s full lips flew from his head.

Giacomo canted his head, studying Leonardo in turn. “Flowers?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are they for me?”

Leonardo was pulled from his trance and felt suddenly foolish and stupid. He thrust the flowers forward and almost growled, “Of course they are for you. I don’t make a habit of wandering around town with a handful of flowers.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Leonardo flushed. “Dammit! I’m sorry, Giacomo.” He stepped closer, but stayed a calculated distance apart. Giacomo was far too enticing and Leonardo lost all faculties when he was near. This, this state he was in, was making it damn near impossible for Leonardo to speak clearly, let alone do what he came to.

He handed Giacomo the flowers and sagged. “I had to come and to apologize. I-I am sorry for what I said, at my uncle’s,” he started in a headlong rush, afraid that if he stopped he’d never get the words flowing again. “And for before… and for everything. I like spending time with you and am honored that you want to spend time with me, though I cannot understand why you would. Please say that I have not totally ruined everything? That you might find it in your heart to give me another chance?”

Giacomo accepted the bouquet and brought it to his face to inhale the sweet scent, his eyes growing heavy-lidded and languorous. He sighed, smiling. “You give your friends a rocky ride, Leonardo. One never knows what to expect from you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to call me a surly bastard to my face, Giacomo.”

Giacomo laughed. “I didn’t say that!” he protested. He set the flowers on the bedside table and then patted the mattress, inviting Leonardo to take a seat.

Leonardo smiled slightly, settling on the bed closer than was prudent, but he’d never been cautious when it came to the courtesan. “No, but you thought it!” he teased. “Can I make it up to you? Take you to dinner? To the theatre? They are performing an opera, the newest thing.” He cocked his head. “The word is that it is quite good.”

Giacomo shifted to sit sideways, bending one knee and reclining on an elbow. “Sounds tempting,” he chuckled. His dark eyes studied Leonardo with strange intensity. “Yes,” he murmured, “tempting indeed.” Leonardo had the feeling that Giacomo was talking to himself rather than to him.

He swallowed, wondering at the sense of what he was going to say, but Giacomo inspired him to leap without thought first. He leaned forward, hoping that the thundering of his heart was not as loud as he thought. “And what else tempts you, Giacomo?” he rolled Giacomo’s name, let it flow across his tongue. He wanted to kiss him, felt himself drawn forward, but stopped, his lips parted, waiting.

“What else?” Giacomo seemed entranced, his eyes glued to the spot on Leonardo’s throat where Leonardo could feel his racing heartbeat. “Your vitality... It’s pulsing hot and strong right under the surface... Just one tiny prick - and it will burst out...” With a visible effort, Giacomo shook himself and looked up to meet Leonardo’s eyes. “You are so passionate... so fiery... so alive.” He gave Leonardo a little self-conscious smile. “I cannot help being drawn to you, Leonardo McCoy.”

“That is no bad thing, Giacomo,” he whispered. “From the first moment I set eyes on you, I felt myself drawn to you, felt the world shake and crumble, felt it down to my bones, until I do not know up from down and cannot hold my tongue when you are near.”

“Down to your _bones_?” Giacomo breathed, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. Leonardo leaned forward and closed the gap between them to taste that smile, his breath stilling in his chest.

The courtesan sighed, and Leonardo could feel his uncertainty. Giacomo was still and tense, as if poised on the edge, deciding whether to bolt or to stay. Leonardo knew he should pull away, but doing the right thing was next to impossible when Giacomo was so close, their lips touching. So instead, he pressed a little harder, and Giacomo sighed and relented, opening up and allowing Leonardo to deepen the kiss.

There was something about kissing Giacomo, about his lips and the taste of him, that was wondrously perfect, achingly familiar and sweet, while being delightfully, sinfully exotic and sensuous. His tongue firm, tangling with Leonardo’s, the little flutters of breath teasing and enticing until Leonardo drowned in the sheer _want_ and need for this glorious creature.

The courtesan gave a little plaintive whimper and toppled down onto the bed, pulling Leonardo along with him, their lips still meshed together, breaths mingling.

Leonardo went down easily, his body thrumming with desire and growing hunger for Giacomo. He pressed the lithe body into the mattress, kept his tongue thrusting into the willing mouth, his limbs tingling as lust lit his spine. He was on fire and already hard as a rock.

When they broke apart for air, Giacomo gazed at him with dazed eyes and licked his bruised lower lip. Once again Leonardo felt that tiny moment of hesitation before Giacomo made the next move. He brought his hands up and started undoing the clasps on Leonardo’s doublet that he could reach with their bodies pressed together.

A small part of Leonardo wondered if this was a good idea, doubted that this was the apology that he should be offering. But every fiber of his being was crying out with desperate need to claim Giacomo once again, to be buried in tight heat, to swallow Giacomo’s cries. He lifted up on his arms, giving the courtesan more room to work even as he dipped his head and kissed whatever flesh was near.

Giacomo did a quick job of opening Leonardo’s doublet and shirt and skimmed cool hands over the bared skin of Leonardo’s chest. “’Twould be nice if you removed this, _Bones_ ,” he murmured, leaning up to lick at the hollow of Leonardo’s throat.

Leonardo pulled back and shook his head, laughing at the nickname even if a large part of him warmed at the shared intimacy of it. “Bones?” he smirked and bit his lip, eyes dancing over the flash of visible pale skin. “How ‘bout if I get you out of this first?” He leaned on one arm and released the tie of Giacomo’s robe, pushing the sides open, hands skating over toned muscle and smoothest skin.

Giacomo pursed his lips at him “That is the easy part.” With a speed that took Leonardo completely by surprise Giacomo rolled them over and sat up, straddling Leonardo’s thighs. With a few deft flicks he had Leonardo’s trousers open. “Will you cooperate or shall I have to manhandle you out of your clothes?” he inquired archly.

Leonardo barked out a surprised laugh when he found himself on his back, but that quickly turned into a strangled whimper. He nodded, feeling like an eager youth, but he couldn’t withhold the moan that burst from his lips. “I am many things, but I am no fool, Giacomo, and I would be mad to refuse you.” His lips quirked as he added, “But I would not object to you manhandling me, either.”

Giacomo tugged him up by the arm to easier strip off his doublet and shirt. “Is there anything you _would_ object to?” he asked as he worked.

“For this to stop,” Leonardo said, voice raspy and muffled as he lifted his arms and tore the layers over his head.

Giacomo smirked. “There is no chance of that.” He shrugged off his robe, tossing it away carelessly, and scooted back to tug off Leonardo’s boots. As they thumped to the floor, Giacomo proceeded to unceremoniously rid Leonardo of his pants. Finally, he straddled Leonardo’s naked body and grinned down at him triumphantly. “Now you can make your apologies properly.”

Leonardo arched up, ran his palms over flawless skin, one hand pausing on Giacomo’s flank, while the other slid over his abdomen. His eyes roamed the expanse of pale flesh to meet Giacomo’s, their nearly bottomless black, ringed in brightest blue, more compelling than ever. But this was Giacomo, all the glorious perfect pieces of him that had Leonardo moaning at the impossible vision above him.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” Leonardo breathed. “You have bewitched me. Please let me show you how much I regret my vile words?”

Giacomo’s eyes twinkled with amusement at Leonardo’s words that he obviously perceived as flattery. “Be my guest,” he invited.

Leonardo answered by pulling Giacomo down to him, turning them so that they faced each other. He forcefully repressed the knowledge that others’ hands had touched Giacomo like this, that Dario, and most likely Cornelio, had seen Giacomo’s face screwed up in wordless pleasure. He frowned and bit back the growl that was surfacing, reminding himself that those others commanded Giacomo’s time with coin. Leonardo did not order, he asked, and was given something more priceless in return.

He mapped Giacomo’s skin, teasing the rosy nipples, rough hands dragging and caressing. He trailed kisses and little nips along the path charted by his hands, marring Giacomo’s perfection with a patchwork of tiny marks. He knew Giacomo liked this, and that thought, that he might know Giacomo better than those others only served to make him rumble, possessive and deep, “Need you.” Not the word he was thinking - _’Mine’_ \- but all he knew he could have.

Giacomo stilled for a moment, then arched into Leonardo’s lips, his eyes fluttering shut. “Just... go easy...” he asked.

That request made Leonardo stiffen for an instant. He didn’t want to consider why the courtesan was wincing, knew that he could not have had more than a few hours of sleep. Moreover, his own need was flaring too hot, too fast for him to be gentle. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. When he opened them, he was stunned by the sight of Giacomo beside him. The man was sin incarnate, beautiful and tempting and it took a self-restraint that Leonardo did not realize he had to slow down. “I would not hurt you, Giacomo. Not for anything.”

Leonardo kissed Giacomo then, a gentle, teasing press of lips before he pulled away. “Let me taste you?” He was already moving down Giacomo’s body, refusing to wait lest Giacomo deny him.

Giacomo sagged, unable to argue, but rested his hands on Leonardo’s shoulders in silent agreement.

Leonardo shivered slightly. He was unsure what it was about Giacomo that sent him reeling, drawing him into this act. All he knew was that he craved Giacomo’s taste, wanted to do this _for_ Giacomo, especially knowing that no other bothered. This was something that he could do, even as unskilled as he was.

Giacomo was not fully hard and Leonardo wondered just how late the twins had kept him. But _that_ thought led him down paths he didn’t want to tread. He shook off jealousy and concentrated on Giacomo. “Let me do this for you, make you feel as good as you make me feel, Giacomo,” he murmured.

Giacomo sighed again and spread his legs, allowing Leonardo a free hand.

Leonardo let his tongue swipe along Giacomo’s cock, before nuzzling his groin, the pubic hair sparse, pale and soft, not wiry. He explored Giacomo’s thighs, surprised at the tensile strength he felt under his palms. Unable to resist, he mouthed the fleshy area nearest the left buttock and sucked in firmly, a possessive growl rumbling through him.

Giacomo hissed softly, his fingers digging into Leonardo’s shoulders. Then he chucked affectionately. “Marking your territory, Leonardo?” he teased. But his pulse sped up, and he squirmed a little as his body started reacting to the stimulation with more ardor.

Flushing, Leonardo didn’t answer, instead he mouthed one of Giacomo’s balls, smiling around it as he felt Giacomo’s interest grow. Leonardo’s own desire was banked, his cock pressing into the mattress, but it was easy enough to ignore when he could make this man writhe.

Giacomo murmured his acquiescence, his lashes once again fluttering shut, his thighs spreading further apart to give Leonardo better access.

Leonardo stifled a moan as Giacomo relaxed beneath him. He settled between Giacomo’s thighs and continued to taste pale flesh, teasing with little nips along Giacomo’s thighs and groin, soothing the marks with his tongue.

Giacomo writhed and gasped under the onslaught. His hands left Leonardo’s shoulders to tangle in Leonardo’s hair, as if he could not decide whether to push him away or draw him near.

Leonardo swallowed, didn’t dwell on his eagerness for this, how Giacomo’s taste seemed to be addictive as well as a heady aphrodisiac. He tilted his head into the courtesan’s questing hands, moaning at the sensation of strong fingers tugging and stroking. He let his gaze roam over Giacomo’s body, sudden intense heat suffusing him. He wanted Giacomo and he wanted him right now.

With that thought, he leaned up, grinning wickedly as he sucked in the head of Giacomo’s cock. The flesh fully firmed under his tongue and he bit back a moan. He swirled his tongue over the crown, wetting his lips and Giacomo’s shaft as he swallowed. One hand wrapped around the base as he sucked and hummed, already able to take more in than the first time he did this.

Giacomo seemed taken by surprise by the wet bliss of Leonardo’s mouth. He gasped, shuddering, and then abruptly sat up, tugging at Leonardo’s hair, pushing him away. “No, no! Stop! Please!”

Hearing Giacomo’s desperate plea, Leonardo released his cock with a wet plop. He frowned and moved up to him. “What? What is it? What did I do wrong?”

Giacomo shook his head. “Nothing! You did nothing wrong.” He gave Leonardo a fervent kiss, his tongue sweeping Leonardo’s mouth. Then he pressed their foreheads together. “You have come here to make it up to me, haven’t you? So I can choose how I want it. I am not sure I shall be up to... much action.” His lashes fluttered down, hiding his eyes. “And I want to feel you inside me... I want to come with you buried deep in my body... You do not mind, do you?” The question was barely more than a whisper.

Leonardo’s heart clenched, but he opened, receptive and accepting of Giacomo’s kiss and reassurance. Something was still off and he couldn’t put a finger on it, but Giacomo was effective at silencing his doubts. His words lit a fire in Leonardo’s groin, ignited a fiercely passionate hunger and Leonardo pushed Giacomo back, covering him with his body, their cocks brushing. “M-mind?” he rasped.

“I want you, amante, but I will not be party to injuring you.” He grasped Giacomo’s hands and pulled them over his head. “Do you have oil nearby?” he asked, words low against Giacomo’s neck.

“Of course I do,” he murmured, instinctively tilting his head to bare his throat to Leonardo’s lips. “If you let me get it...”

Mouthing Giacomo’s neck, Leonardo hummed in disapproval. He lifted his lips, left them hovering over Giacomo’s skin. “Just tell me where. Allow me to look after you?”

Giacomo did not argue. “The blue jar. Over there.” He tilted his chin toward the bedside table.

Leonardo kissed Giacomo’s mouth, trailed his lips softly down his chest and dropped a light kiss on the tip of his cock before turning. He reached for the jar and lifted the lid to smell it. He dabbed a bit on his finger and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. The slight tingle told him this was no ordinary salve, but also a numbing agent. He sighed softly and shook his head, the healer in him pushing to the forefront.

“We are not doing this. Not like that.”

He scooted back to Giacomo’s side and rested his head on his hand as he gazed at him. “I meant what I said. I’ll not be party to hurting you. How strong is this salve?” He reached between them and slid his hand lightly over Giacomo’s shaft which was no longer fully hard.

Giacomo cocked an eyebrow. “Are you offering me a dinner and a theatre performance again? I thought it was about what I want, not about what you do not want.”

Anger made Leonardo’s face heat. “You want pain, Giacomo? You want to be used? No consideration given to your care?” he snapped.

Too many conflicting emotions, lust, shame, anger, warred with love in his chest and he pressed Giacomo down, tightening his fingers. “Then why bother with the salve?”

Giacomo did not fight him. “No, what I want is you. Making love to me,” he explained patiently. “The salve is a means to make it more comfortable. Can you please stop being a doctor, Bones? And be just my lover?”

Leonardo deflated and shook his head. “I do not know how to be anything but a healer.” Only when he noticed that Giacomo had yet again called him Bones did his frown ease. “Bones? Is that an endearment? Or a curse?”

“What do you think?” Giacomo smiled into Leonardo’s eyes.

“I think you are far too coherent.” He reached for the jar and gathered some of the salve, but his fingers slid over Giacomo’s shaft instead of his hole. “And I wish to change that.” He stroked both shafts together, the slick-slide making him hiss. “Will this suffice?” he asked.

Giacomo drew a slow breath that spoke of patience wearing thin. “Leonardo McCoy! When I say I want your cock up my arse, what part of that exactly do you not understand? Do you want to earn my forgiveness or not?”

Leonardo’s hand stilled and he blinked in astonishment, raw hunger making his cock stiffen further. His head was arguing but his body was all too willing. “You stubborn...” he started but stopped himself. “Forgive me. I apparently have a problem with following orders.”

“Bones.” Giacomo’s voice had a sharp edge of warning to it. “Shut up and fuck me, will you?”

Leonardo bit back a chuckle. He shouldn’t be laughing but this was a completely novel situation. He liked and was totally surprised by it, but he recognized that he needed to comply... and quickly. He dipped two fingers into the jar and pressed them both into Giacomo. “Bossy,” he huffed out under his breath.

Giacomo exhaled sharply and made himself relax. “And you talk too much,” he muttered.

Leonardo was careful and refused to rush the preparation no matter how insistent his cock was. He smirked against Giacomo’s lips, nibbling at the plump flesh as he teased his hole. “You are beautiful when you are annoyed, did you know that?”

Tension drained from Giacomo’s body at the soothing effect of the salve. “I’m always beautiful,” he retorted, pushing down onto Leonardo’s fingers.

“I’d say arrogant as well, but you, more than most, have a right to your ego.” He pressed his lips to Giacomo’s neck, as he murmured. “Just like that, amante. Open for me.” He returned for one last scoop of salve, pausing to slide his hand briefly over his cock before pressing the salve into Giacomo’s abused hole again.

A whimper escaped Giacomo’s lips that aroused Leonardo further, inflaming him and stoking a possessive fire that threatened to consume him. He didn’t know why or how and gave up trying to question it, simply spread Giacomo and pressed his cock to the tight hole. “I will make it good, I promise,” he vowed as he pushed forward.

Giacomo tossed his head back, crying out at the pain-laced bliss of their connection. His hands flew up to grip the pillow under his head. “Oh yes...” he moaned.

Leonardo’s breath whooshed from his lungs, all in one great exhale as Giacomo clenched and fluttered around his cock. He couldn’t stop, just tensed his muscles and slid in as slowly as he could.

Giacomo looked up at Leonardo and grinned triumphantly as though he welcomed the pain, or did not feel it.

Fully seated, his eyes glued to Giacomo’s face, he could not miss his cocky grin. Leonardo pivoted his hips, swiveling and thrusting, his own lips curling up as pleasure coursed through him. “Is this what you wanted, Giacomo?”

Giacomo gasped out, “Oh, God! Yes!” Then he licked his lips and squirmed, encouraging Leonardo to move.

Pleased by that, Leonardo planted his knees and withdrew, until just the head of his cock teased the tight ring of muscle. How Giacomo was not wincing in pain, Leonardo did not know, but Giacomo’s cock was filling and he squirmed enticingly. This was what he’d asked for, what he wanted, and Leonardo would do his best.

He snapped his hips forward, angling the thrust up, hoping to hit that one spot.

Giacomo cried out, lips parted around quick hungry pants, and eyes gazing up at Leonardo from under long midnight dark lashes.

“That’s it, like that, amante!” he urged, his own body succumbing all too quickly to the exquisite undulations of Giacomo surrounding him.

“Talking... too much!” Giacomo panted, his grin back in place. “Move!” He brought his hands down to grip Leonardo’s arms for support and pushed down onto the hard length piercing him.

A strong moan obliterated Leonardo’s chuckle. He thrust and ground his hips, seeking the perfect angle. When he found it, he shifted, and thrust, aiming for Giacomo’s pleasure spot time and time again.

Giacomo keened, his eyes rolling in his head. His fingers dug into Leonardo’s arms as he pushed down again, striving to take Leonardo even deeper, as though wanting to feel Leonardo’s erection against his heart.

The noises Giacomo made, the way he writhed and moaned, clutching and tugging at Leonardo’s skin and arms had Leonardo seeing stars. His hips stuttered, his groin tightening and he barely had the presence of mind to fist Giacomo’s cock before his orgasm blindsided him. He cried out and thrust, burying his release deep inside Giacomo.

Giacomo screamed as climax flooded his body, overflowed and spilled over, splashing his stomach and chest with the evidence of his pleasure. Boneless, weak and shaking, he gulped for air.

Leonardo collapsed to the bed, resting on his arms as he panted. His eyes had slammed shut from the sheer intensity of more than the physical sensations rocketing through him, but he didn’t want to hide from this, didn’t want to miss a moment of seeing Giacomo like this. Trembling beneath him, debauched and wrecked, Giacomo was the most beautiful sight Leonardo had ever seen. He leaned down, lips trailing over the quivering pulse point in his neck, mouthed words that he did not dare voice. _’Mine,’ ‘Love,’_ roared through him, leaving him laid bare. Afraid of looking into Giacomo’s eyes and seeing only polite interest, he kept his head down, nuzzling Giacomo’s neck and peppering his skin with light kisses.

The intense climax seemed to have burnt out the remnants of Giacomo’s energy. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. “Apology accepted,” he murmured, slurring a little, as he made an effort to raise his hand to stroke Leonardo’s shoulder. But he lost the battle against sleep, and his hand slipped back down to the mattress as dreams claimed him.

Leonardo’s heart fluttered and he kissed Giacomo’s lips tenderly. He was soaring, body alive, every sensation sharp and clear. Instead of lethargy he felt invigorated and strong, as though he could take on the world. It was ludicrous of course, he was still just Leonardo McCoy, healer, but something about Giacomo made him ridiculously sappy, inappropriately possessive and keenly aware that he and Giacomo were as ill-suited as a cat and the canal.

That knowledge didn’t change how he felt and Leonardo was reluctant to leave, no matter his own schedule was not free. He busied himself with carefully cleaning Giacomo and himself; tucked the blankets around Giacomo and arranging the flowers in a vase. Giacomo was exhausted, but even the twinge of guilt pressing against his heart did not diminish his bright smile as he left the man to rest and recover.

Jérôme was frosty, but said nothing as he saw Leonardo out and Leonardo could not muster enough concern to care. The sky was turning grey, but it might as well have been the most beautiful of spring days for the lightness in Leonardo’s walk and the smile on his face.

~~*~~

  
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Giacomo declined Gaila’s offer of wine and dropped down onto the sofa. He did not even try to hide how low he felt. There was no need - and no use - to pretend with Gaila. He slumped down and, propping his head against the backrest, closed his eyes.

“You know,” he sighed, “I think I’ve had enough of this courtesan role. I no longer wish to play it. I think it is time for Giacomo to disappear. Perhaps, he should find a patron somewhere in Rome or Naples? Someone who wants him for himself, forcing him to leave Venice forever.”

Gaila settled beside him, her hand reaching for his. “Giacomo was useful. I can still imagine the ripples François’ fury created, so why leave? Venice loves the night and thinks nothing of a courtesan and an aspiring singer who sleep by day. Other... _places_ are not so hospitable.”

“I cannot stay in Venice and not be a courtesan,” Giacomo replied without opening his eyes. “I shall go to France... Then maybe on to Greece...”

Gaila leaned over and kissed Giacomo’s lips. “You would run home now?” She stroked a cool palm over his forehead and cheeks. “What changed, mon cher?”

“Run? Yes, perhaps that is the right word,” Giacomo sighed and finally looked at Gaila with a self-deprecating smile. “It is no longer safe for me to stay here.”

Gaila looked at him for the longest time, her lips pursed and turned down. She huffed out a small, sad breath. “It is Leonardo, then?”

Giacomo raised his hands and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yes,” he sighed. “Yes. I care for him too much. That is not safe. Not for me, or for him.”

Shaking her head, she tugged on his arms, pulling them away from his face. “Look at me, Jacques. How long will you run? Will you never allow yourself to feel again?”

“I will. If and when I meet someone whom I cannot harm.” He gave her a disarming smile.

“Will you? Or are you still convinced you do not deserve love?” Her tone was not harsh, but there was a scolding undertone in her voice. “After Armand, I believed that I did not want to feel like that ever again. But, Montgomery has lit the dark recesses of my heart. I am not afraid to love him, Jacques. Why should you be?”

Giacomo smiled again, this time tenderly. “So your Scotsman is more than a passing interest then?”

Gaila flushed, ducking her head, but she could not hide the shy smile that lit her face. It turned her beauty radiant, incomparable. “He is far more than I imagined. He loves me and is teaching me that I deserve to be loved, Jacques, and I will not give that up. Rules be damned.”

She lifted her head and glared at him, though her lips were upturned. “And stop changing the subject. This is not about me and mine. You come here looking more lost than I have seen in an age and declare that you are leaving?” Gaila leaned over Giacomo, pressing her palms into his shoulders. Her face softened and she rubbed their noses together. “You should talk to him. Tell him who you are. If Leonardo loves you, and I have no doubt he does, it will not matter. I would see you always smile like you do when he is near.”

“Gaila...” Giacomo sighed. “Armand hurt you badly and it took you ages to heal. But it was he hurting you, not the other way round. No one suffered because you loved them. And certainly no one died.”

“Jean’s death was not _your_ fault! That arrogant ass, François, uncle or not, was the cause! Only he should have to bear that burden!” Gaila’s voice sparked with anger. “Do you think Jean would want you to torture yourself?”

She swallowed heavily and slumped, her eyes wet. “Oh, mon coeur, do not do this. Not now, not again. Leonardo is smart and his heart is large. At least allow him to make the choice, do not make it for him.”

Giacomo shook his head. “Jean died because I loved him. I don’t want Leonardo... _anyone_ to die because of me again. I’ll... go to Chabrier.” He nodded, decision made.

Gaila didn’t want to give in, but had no other argument for him. She knew Giacomo too well to argue when he had made up his mind. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on.

Giacomo returned the embrace, stroking her back soothingly. He knew she was not happy with him, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

“Signor Scott! I told you! The mistress is busy! You cannot just barge in on her!”

Gaila lifted her head as the doors opened. Scotty was shaking his head and looking over his shoulder as he argued with Joséphine. “Forgive me, Signorina, but what I have to say cannot wait. I will see that your mistress holds you blameless.” With that he turned and closed the doors behind him, virtually slamming them in Joséphine’s face.

“Giacomo!” he blurted out in surprise.

Giacomo gently disengaged himself from Gaila’s arms and rose to his feet. “Signor Scott. Good evening.”

Scotty gaped. “What? You!”

Gaila dabbed at her eyes and stood, gracefully moving to Scotty’s side as though nothing unusual had occurred. She wrapped her arm around Scotty’s and tugged him to the sofa. “It is good to see you, Signor Scott. Please do sit and tell us what has you in such an uproar that you were rude to my staff.”

Giacomo gave Scotty a polite smile. “I should be going now, cara,” he said then, turning to Gaila.

Gaila shook her head slowly and grabbed Giacomo’s arm. “Oh, no you don’t. We are not finished here and you’re not leaving.” She sat down on the sofa and pulled the men to sit on either side of her. “I am certain that Montgomery can share his news with you.”

Scotty went easily, but shot Giacomo a hard look. It could have been jealousy that narrowed his eyes, but it seemed to be less the green-eyed monster than simple displeasure. Silently Giacomo obeyed Gaila’s command and took a seat, in a nearby chair.

Gaila rolled her eyes at him and turned to Scotty. She clasped his hand in hers, gently stroking her thumb over the back of it. “What is it, Montgomery? What has happened?”

Her tone was soft and cajoling, and Scotty sagged and seemed to forget about Giacomo. He took a deep breath and slumped a bit, but his eyes never left Gaila’s face. “Your engagement at the Picca home? It has been cancelled. Signor Picca is gravely ill. The whole house is in an uproar with Leonardo working himself to death.”

Scotty’s eyes lifted at the mention of Leonardo’s name. He pinned Giacomo with a baleful gaze. “I cannot convince him to rest or look after himself and I fear it will go badly if Signor Picca were not to survive.”

Giacomo was taken aback. “Cristoforo is ill? What happened?”

“If you had not been avoiding Leonardo, you would know!” Scotty snapped. He turned back to Gaila and shook his head. “Signor Picca is a foolish man, far too stubborn and noble for his own good. There was an accident on one of the pleasure cruises over a fortnight ago. ‘Twas a silly thing, really. A couple of young men imbibed heavily and began to posture and fight. A particularly wealthy Roman who can’t swim ended up in the lagoon. Cristoforo dove in to save him. But the idiot panicked. I am not sure whether it was the blow to his side, or the cold and damp, but Cristoforo sickened, growing steadily worse until...”

Gaila embraced Scotty, her brow furrowed in confusion at Giacomo.

Giacomo looked stunned and confused. “Why... But I have heard nothing! A fortnight, you say? Are they keeping his illness a secret?”

Scotty nodded. “Claudio. He fears that long lost relatives will circle like crows if word gets out. Leonardo, he trusts no one else with his uncle’s care. If you could simply will someone back to health, he would have already done so.” Scotty wrapped his arms around Gaila, inhaling deeply before gazing at Giacomo. “And you. Where have you been? Leonardo _needed_ you. He went by your home, left messages, asked to see you. Leonardo never asks for himself. _Never._ Why? Why did you abandon him now when his need is the greatest?”

Gaila’s eyes shot up, then they closed sadly, her arms tightening around Scotty.

A muscle twitched in Giacomo’s jaw but he remained silent under Scotty’s hail of accusations.

“You’re a selfish ass, Giacomo. Leonardo is one of the best men I have ever known... I do not know what your problem is, but it is no thanks to you how things stand.”

“Montgomery!” Gaila chided.

“Forgive me, lass. I do not mean to be so crass in front of you, but ‘tis been a hard time.”

Giacomo looked at Gaila. “I believe we are finished now.” He rose to his feet. “Good night to you, cara. Signor Scott.” He gave Scotty a slight bow and walked out of the room.

~~*~~

Giacomo stepped into the street and stopped, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with rich, night air, trying to calm down. Scotty’s words had hurt, but they had also proved what Giacomo had known all along - he and Leonardo were too close. It was time to sever all ties between them.

The news of Cristoforo’s ailment was a real shock. The man had always been kind to him, and Giacomo knew he had to visit and to see for himself how he fared. He didn’t want to see Leonardo, knowing it would be better if the man hated him, instead of trying to come up with some lie that would be neither satisfying nor believable.

The Picca manor appeared quickly and Giacomo swallowed. He disembarked, stepping lightly on the pier, before straightening his clothes and approaching the house. There were lights flickering in some windows, so it was not too late to visit. Cristoforo had always been accommodating, so Giacomo assumed that still held true. He knocked firmly and tilted his head in greeting when the door opened.

The elder servant recognized Giacomo and offered him a weak smile. “Giacomo, it is a pleasure to see you, but the master is...”

His words were cut off by Claudio. “Do not be daft, Pietro, show Giacomo in. He is always welcome in our home.”

“Of course, Signore.” The door widened and Pietro stepped aside, waving Giacomo inside. Giacomo did not miss the heaviness blanketing Pietro’s shoulders, nor the fatigue and sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you, Pietro,” he nodded as the servant left him with Claudio. His eyes were dark, lips pursed, but he showed few visible signs of strain. Giacomo could see them, knew that his father’s illness weighed heavily on him, but he also knew Claudio’s pride would never allow him to admit it.

“I came as soon as I heard the news. May I see him, Claudio?”

The man neared, invading his space, purposefully trying to loom over Giacomo, but Giacomo held his ground, eyes locking with Claudio’s. “My father’s illness is not general news, Giacomo. We have kept it quiet as he would wish.”

“I understand. May I see him?”

“Of course, but I have need of you, Giacomo.” Claudio pressed forward, their chests brushing, and Giacomo could feel his heartbeat. “You could ease my worry, if you will?”

Giacomo looked into his face silently. So yet again he would find himself in this disgraceful situation: entertaining a family member while another was lying in their sick bed. Giacomo thought of his first meeting with Leonardo in the Capello’s house. He pushed that memory away. He did not deserve Leonardo. He deserved something entirely different. He met Claudio’s eyes. They both needed each other. But not tonight, Giacomo decided. “I am unavailable for today, Claudio,” he said softly. “But tomorrow you shall have me.”

Claudio’s nostrils flared and he gave a sharp nod, his hand lifting to briefly touch Giacomo’s lips. “Thank you, Giacomo,” he whispered. “We understand each other well, I believe.” He straightened and pulled away, unaware that Giacomo’s eyes caught Jocelina over his shoulder, her eyes widening before she turned and fled back up the stairs.

“We moved him from his suite to rooms by the kitchen. They are the warmest we have.” He motioned with an outstretched arm. “This way.”

~~*~~

Giacomo sagged against a stone wall, gulping fresh air. Cristoforo was a shell of his former self, small and fragile in the large bed, his face drawn and pinched. The air had been close, dense, reminding Giacomo too keenly of death, acidic and sharp. He was infinitely grateful Leonardo had not been there. His own pain at seeing Cristoforo like that had been bad enough. He would not have been able to deal with Leonardo’s anguish as well.

With wet eyes and a heavy heart, Giacomo resumed his aimless walking, the night sounds unable to relieve the ache in his soul. Without conscious thought, his legs carried him to the chapel door of Santa Maria degli Angeli. He rested his palm on the heavy bronze handle, indecision freezing his hand. He needed the comfort offered here, the nonjudgmental support, but he was unsure he was worthy of it any longer. Needless death, a life cut off too soon, always burned.

Tugging the door open, he stepped into the aisle of the church. Candles blazed and shadows danced over the paintings and frescoes. The old church was not large or wealthy; it could not be, with most of its tithes given to those in the greatest of need. But its old stones and rough-hewn timbers were beautiful, steeped in centuries of devout prayer and fervent need. The years of humility had given the chapel a peace and serenity, a grace that the ornate and powerful cathedrals could never know. Giacomo’s shoulders dropped as he breathed in the air, redolent with incense and tallow. Here, at least, he could beg for Cristoforo’s life, pray that Leonardo would have a long and happy life, and send his best wishes to Gaila. He did not believe in their petty, vindictive god, but he never gave up the idea that there was something in the wide world that kept all things in balance, in harmony.

“Giacomo!” Friar Ezio greeted from the altar. He was a balding, pudgy man with kind eyes and an ever present smile. He was forever solicitous, called every man friend and lived with true joy in his heart. But even Ezio’s fondness and warm hug could not assuage Giacomo’s black mood.

“I have a request of you, Padre,” he told the Friar. “A dear friend of mine is gravely ill. Please, say a prayer for him. God is more likely to listen to you than me.”

Ezio lifted his rosary beads and clasped Giacomo’s hands in his warm, fleshy ones. “My son, light a candle and pray. It will ease your heart.”

A faint bitter smile twisted Giacomo’s lips, but he did not argue, unwilling to shock or upset the good Friar with his cynical outlook on life and God. “Please, pray for my friend Cristoforo,” he said, instead.

Ezio gave him a soft, sad smile. “It will be done, my son. And you should come into the nave, light a candle for him yourself, and see, see what your generosity has given us!” Ezio tugged him forward, still clasping his hand as he pulled. “The work is exquisite! Such a talented young artist. I do not know where you found him and how you could afford it, but his work is breathtaking.”

The Friar’s words were like an echo from the past and Giacomo had to swallow around a lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. “So the frescoes are finished then?”

“They are. I was going to send for you, make sure you were pleased...” Ezio cocked his head and looked at Giacomo, eyes kind but too shrewd. “Come along, Giacomo. God will share your burden and allow you peace that you cannot know otherwise.”

He hurried forward, his ample girth leading the way. He moved into the nave proper and then a few steps further, to the sanctuary, stopping before scaffolding draped with cloths. “Here we are. Are you ready?” Ezio, lifted his hand, holding a cloth aside as he waved Giacomo forward. “Come, come. The lanterns still burn as Giovanni has just left.”

Giacomo stepped closer and tilted his head to look up at the frescoes painted on the wall surrounding the niche with the statue of Virgin Mary. Angels, with beautiful youthful faces. Santa Maria degli Angeli. Giovanni was truly gifted, his paintings vivid and exquisite, so lifelike they seem to breathe. Giacomo’s eyes were moving from one winged figure to another, and suddenly he froze, the air leaving his lungs in one sharp, painful gasp. Stunned, shocked, lost, he was staring into Jean’s face. Those wide green eyes, golden locks and luscious lips. Jean, _his_ beautiful Jean, was smiling down at him, and Giacomo could weep from the sweetness of the smile he knew so well.

Giacomo fought for breath, his dry throat working as he stared at Jean, so life-like and as beautiful as ever. How was this possible? Was this an omen or a message?

 _‘Jean, what are you trying to tell me?’_ A pained, strangled sound escaped Giacomo’s lips, hot tears welling up in his eyes.

Strong arms wrapped around Giacomo, pulled him up close. “What is it, my son? Tell Padre Ezio, I will do what I can to ease your pain.”

Giacomo blinked, returning to the present. He made an effort to pull himself together, to force his heart to beat again and his brain to work. “’Tis... nothing,” he croaked, gently disengaging himself from the Friar’s arms. He swallowed, trying to make his voice to cooperate. “It is... Giovanni’s talent... His art... goes straight to one’s heart.” Giacomo drew a deep breath, still feeling dizzy. He needed out, into fresh air, away from the gentle eyes of his lost lover. “I... need to go now, Padre. Tell Giovanni he has surpassed himself. And please, pray for my ailing friend.”

Ezio looked unconvinced, but nodded. “Giovanni has the makings of genius and it is all thanks to you that he has a chance to shine.” He rested a palm on Giacomo’s shoulder. “I will pray for your friend, and for you, my son.”

“Thank you, Padre,” Giacomo nodded.

“Go with God,” Ezio intoned.

Giacomo nodded again and headed for the door, walking along the aisle between the rows of empty pews. He needed to get out of there, to erase the image of Jean’s face from his mind. He wasn’t watching his feet, didn’t notice the large booted foot halfway in the aisle and caught his toe on it as he hurried past.

As if to mock him, he turned and met Leonardo’s face, eyes wide, mouth open in shock, his hands still clasped in prayer. Giacomo froze, the world around him going still and mute. All he could see was the hurt in Leonardo’s eyes. Giacomo’s heart stuttered and his throat closed, nothing but air came from his gasping lungs. Now he knew what Jean’s message was. And he knew what he had to do. Averting his gaze, he fled.

~~*~~

Leonardo knew the act for what it was - foolish desperation, but he couldn’t help himself. Nothing he had done was helping, Cristoforo was so far gone that Leonardo could feel death’s icy hand reaching past him and he wouldn’t, couldn’t allow his uncle to go without trying everything, even this.

But of course, Leonardo’s life had never followed a straight path. He’d lit the candle, said the blessing, and now knelt in the last row to pray, when the object of his waking dreams literally stumbled over him. If Leonardo had been more himself, less exhausted, anything but stretched thin and pulled tight, he’d have taken Giacomo’s arm, held him in place, forced him to talk. Church be damned.

But he’d sat there, gaping like a fish, in shock and surprise, witless, and allowed Giacomo to get away. And now Leonardo had no idea what to do. He struggled to stand, eyes glued to the door, hoping that Giacomo would reconsider. He wilted, shoulders slumping, as events came crashing down on him.

“Leonardo! I did not expect to see you here, but I am glad for it!” Father Ezio gripped Leonardo’s shoulder. “God has called many to his devotion today.”

Leonardo shook himself from his stupor, swiped at his stinging eyes and turned to look at the friar. “It does seem that many unlikely have come.”

“God loves us all, my son. What brings you here? The asylum is still well stocked with supplies and none need your services at the moment, thank the Lord.”

“I-I... it is my uncle, he is gravely ill.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

Leonardo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I have been unable to help him, so I was hoping God might...” His voice faltered. “Would you pray for him, padre?”

Ezio clasped Leonardo’s hand in his. “God hears all prayers and gives solace to those who ask for it, my son."

"I wish I could believe that, padre," Leonardo sighed. "But obviously, it doesn't work for everyone. That man... who just left... He seemed to be running like the devil from holy water. Did he not feel welcome in the house of God?"

Ezio looked toward the door and then back at Leonardo. “You misunderstand, my son. Giacomo is a patron of our little chapel. Without his generosity, we could not serve so many and would have to turn away others. He has sponsored young artists, giving them a place to sleep and eat while they hone their craft. In fact, I was showing him Giovanni’s latest creation. His frescoes, they are breathtaking, and our Giacomo was overcome.”

Leonardo blinked, his thoughts and emotions in an utter jumble. Desperate longing for Giacomo; deeply set confusion and betrayal at being so easily tossed aside; more confusion and genuine surprise at the fact that the courtesan was a patron of a church, of all things; a faint stab of jealousy - who the hell was Giovanni, anyway? – too many unnamable feelings. He was buffeted and rocked by an emotional avalanche, quickly benumbed by the overload.

Ezio tugged Leonardo forward. “Come, my son. You look as if you need this.”

Leonardo didn’t have the strength to resist, so he followed. The friar pushed aside some hanging cloths and pushed Leonardo forward, until he was staring at vivid, lifelike frescoes surrounding the Virgin. Giovanni was a truly gifted painter. “I see how these could affect one,” he rasped.

“Our Giacomo knows talent. Giovanni isn’t the first he has sponsored.” He was shaking his head, sadly. “But Giacomo does not wish his name known. He says it is because he doesn’t want the artists sullied by association. I try... to convince him... that God knows his heart. Riches and fine clothes do not make a pious man, but I think he has been hurt...” Ezio stopped short as though only just realizing that he was rambling, revealing confidences that he had no right to share. “Forgive me. You are here for your... uncle, wasn’t it?”

~~*~~

  
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Leonardo kissed Cristoforo’s forehead and shuffled out of the small room. Friar Ezio might believe in the power of prayer, but it hadn’t helped. Leonardo feared the worst, but he was dragging, exhausted and broken, far too much to grieve over these past days. He stepped into the foyer, his eyes on the door and thoughts of home, when a shadow caught his eye. _’Giacomo!’_

Perhaps fatigue was clouding his sight, but Leonardo thought the courtesan was moving oddly: no trace of his usual easy grace, his gait stiff and faltering, as if he were dead on his feet or were in pain.

The worst part of standing here looking at Giacomo, still beautiful despite everything, was that Leonardo had no idea what had happened, why he’d been summarily cast aside. He had been given no reason and it stuck in his craw, burned, impossible to reconcile with all the times he’d been in Giacomo’s company. He was owed an explanation, dammit!

“Giacomo!” he called out, stepping forward. “A word, if you please?”

Giacomo looked up, paused his steps, a shadow flickering over his face. He looked like he wanted to square his shoulders but aborted the motion and resumed walking till he stopped in front of Leonardo. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes dark and tired. “What word would that be, Leonardo?”

Leonardo swallowed, gathered up his tattered dignity and kept himself from reaching out. “How about a simple explanation?” he ground out. His eyes flicked over Giacomo’s attire, he knew exactly what he’d done, who he’d been with. “Why you can find time for _Claudio,_ but have none for me!”

“Because I am a courtesan,” Giacomo offered with a faint smirk that was more pained than arch. Then he gave Leonardo a tired nod. “Good night to you, Leonardo.” Stiffly, he moved past him to the door.

Leonardo was having no more of being dismissed! Overwhelming anger and hurt flashed through him, catching him off guard. Giacomo had nearly passed when Leonardo reached out and caught his arm, in mid-stride. Giacomo was stretched forward, his back turning to Leonardo, and the cloth pulling across his slim form was stained with crimson blood. Leonardo gripped him tighter, tugging him back. “You’re bleeding! What did that bastard do to you?” he hissed.

The courtesan gave a pained gasp at the abrupt jerk and glared at Leonardo. “What is done when I work is between me and my patrons.”

Leonardo dropped Giacomo’s arm, a dark chasm opening in his heart. “And what am I, Giacomo? Yesterday’s charity? I am no artist, cannot paint, have little talent… I cannot even save my own uncle!” He shook his head and swiped at the wetness in his eyes. “Why did you bother with _me_?”

Giacomo flinched and drew a shuddering breath, then another one, slow and deep. Leonardo waited for him to say something, anything, but Giacomo remained silent.

Swallowing, Leonardo lifted his head and offered him an arm. “Never mind. At least let me tend you. You should not go out like this. Your wounds could get infected.”

"Ever the doctor, Leonardo?" Giacomo's smile was half-hearted at best. "You do not have to worry about me. All I need is to get home and rest. You’d better take care of yourself. You look as though you are about to drop."

Leonardo arched an eyebrow, but was too tired to argue. “Fine. I will see you home and tend you there, but you will not be rid of me until I know you are looked after.” He crossed his arms over his chest, daring Giacomo to argue.

The courtesan did not look particularly thrilled at the prospect, but for some reason, chose not to disagree. “Very well,” he sighed and nodded at the door. “A boat is waiting.”

Leonardo wanted to touch, but he fought his instinct for tactile reassurance. Giacomo didn’t want him anymore, but Leonardo couldn’t help fretting, couldn’t help the knot in his stomach as the man turned. He swore under his breath, called Claudio every name in the book, and only Giacomo walking into the night kept him from marching up the stairs and dealing Claudio the same he had given Giacomo. He followed quietly, kept his hands in his lap and his eyes turned away.

The boat ride was short, its silence tense, and Leonardo was stubborn enough not to say a word as the courtesan sat stiffly on the bench. Even with a cushioned seat and back, it was obvious that Giacomo was in pain. Leonardo didn’t offer any solace, though he wanted to. He did still care for Giacomo and hated to see him hurting, but the stubborn bastard had brought this on himself and was too prideful to admit that he needed help.

Leonardo bounded off the gondola and, forgetting himself, offered Giacomo a hand up. “Here, it will be easier if you have something to grasp onto.”

The man accepted his help and got out onto the pier, managing not to wince. He paid the gondolier and headed for the door to his house. It swung open even before Giacomo knocked. The dogs rushed out to fawn over him, sniffing at Leonardo in passing. Jérôme stood in the doorway, holding a lit lantern.

Giacomo gave him a wan smile. “Good evening, Jérôme. I’ve brought a doctor with me.”

“Do you need a doctor?” Jérôme’s eyes darted over Giacomo’s body, checking him for injuries.

“Of course he needs a doctor! What is wrong with you people?” Leonardo groused, as he tugged Giacomo forward. “At this rate, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up horribly disfigured!”

Jérôme met Giacomo’s eyes for a moment, one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. Then he stepped aside, and Giacomo led the way into the hall and up the staircase to his bedchamber.

Leonardo swallowed, kept his eyes from the bed as he tried his damnedest not to think about the last time he’d been here. The knot in his stomach had only grown until it swelled his throat, forcing him to swallow repeatedly so that he could make his voice work. “You will need a bath and I will need clean cloths.” Leonardo looked around the room. “Do you have salve?”

Giacomo walked to the bathroom door and pushed it open. The wooden tub inside was filled with water and on a small table near it there was a pile of linen and two glass jars. “Have a look,” Giacomo invited. “Will those do?”

A sick feeling overcame Leonardo and he drew in a few hasty breaths. “Y-you had this planned? I mean, you knew exactly what was going to happen and you went to Claudio anyway?” He couldn’t help himself and stepped close to Giacomo, searching his face for something that could make sense of this. “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet and plaintive.

“This is my work, Leonardo,” Giacomo replied gently. “Often people come to me for something they cannot get anywhere else. This is what I am paid for.”

“Paid for? They cannot get it anywhere else because no one in their right mind deserves this!” he spluttered. “Claudio, my _cousin_ is a perverse, cruel man! It is bad enough he dishonors his wife, tarnishes his marriage bed, but to use you thusly? When I see him next--”

Giacomo shook his head. “You will say nothing.”

“Try to stop me! He did this in my uncle’s home, Giacomo! While his wife slept under the same roof! Of course, I am going to speak to him, tell him what I think of his--”

“No!” Giacomo cut him off again, his voice rising. Then he sighed. “I am sorry for shouting, but you aid nothing by this. You may find this hard to believe but your cousin is not a bad man.”

“What?!”

“Leonardo,” Giacomo begun, his voice gentling, “Claudio desires men, but his first experiences were twisted, so much so that he now associates sexual pleasure with pain. He is not an evil man, simply conflicted, torn by his desires and left wanting. It is easier to blame me for his lust, to take his pleasure and return pain. It is what he needs. He is not the first to do so and will not be the last. A little pain can make climax more intense, so do not condemn what you know nothing about.”

Leonardo stared at Giacomo, his lips parted in surprise. “Do you... do you prefer t-that? Is that what I did wrong?”

The courtesan shook his head. “You did nothing wrong.” He turned away, opening his shirt and tugging it out of the waistband of his trousers. “Help me take this off, please?” he asked, gingerly raising his arms.

Leonardo stopped, his hands hanging in mid-air. He couldn’t take his eyes from the blood where Giacomo’s shirt was stuck to his back. He fumbled a bit, moved forward and finally eased the cloth loose. The wide expanse of pale skin was covered with dried blood, but there were no open lacerations. Welts and bruises mottled Giacomo’s back, shades of purple and green warring with red stripes, but it was far more healed than he’d expected, than he knew it _should_ be. “Giacomo?”

The man looked over his shoulder in silent question.

“Your back. It is...” he shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing. Here, let me help you.” He reached for Giacomo’s trousers, his hands shaky. He had dreamed of being with Giacomo, so many times in the last weeks, but not like this.

“Thank you, but I can manage on my own.” Giacomo took a step away. “I am no invalid.” He started to open his trousers but then paused. “Do you need to be here while I wash?”

Leonardo was stung by Giacomo’s remark, by his _distance._ “Unless you can wash your own back, I do,” he snapped.

The courtesan just sighed and gingerly slipped off his trousers before easing himself into the water. “Very well, Master Healer.”

Leonardo was glad that Giacomo hadn’t turned to face him, he didn’t wish to be caught staring. Even through the bruises, Giacomo was beautiful. Still, he was surprised that the injuries did not stop on Giacomo’s back, they continued over his shapely ass and even onto his thighs. Claudio was nothing if not thorough in meting out pain. It made Leonardo’s limbs ache in sympathy. “If you will not look after yourself, someone should.”

He frowned, but sat on a nearby stool and lifted Giacomo’s hair from his shoulders. “I would still like to know why, Giacomo. You claim I did nothing wrong, yet you will barely look at me.” He swallowed, keeping his hands busy with the knot of ribbon at Giacomo’s nape, but tears still threatened and he blinked furiously to keep them at bay.

Giacomo shivered at the light touch to his neck. He knuckled his eyes and sighed. “I do not look at you, Leonardo, because I like what I see far too much.”

Leonardo took a shuddery breath and shook his head, but he allowed his hands to linger, began to massage Giacomo’s shoulders. “That makes no sense, amante,” he murmured.

Giacomo sighed again. “That makes damn good sense, Bones. I cannot love you.”

“Cannot? Or will not? Are you waiting for some rich patrone, and a lowly healer is not worth your time?” he spat out, his fingers digging into Giacomo’s muscle. “If that is the problem, then speak plain.”

Giacomo reached back to smack Leonardo’s hand. “Do not be an idiot, Leonardo McCoy!” he snapped. “If I am what you paint me to be, then why the hell do you want such a bastard?”

Leonardo pulled away, stung. He blinked back angry tears and growled. “Because I am in love with you, dammit! I have been almost from the first! I do not want you to be with _any_ of those others! I want you to be mine! I want to take care of you, be with you! Is that so hard to understand?” He shoved away from the tub and stood, leaning on one hand by the door frame, trying resolutely to catch his breath. “What is so wrong with me that you cannot love me?” he asked, voice hitching.

Giacomo groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “No... How can you love me? You do not know me at all!”

“On the contrary. I know you now better than ever. You hide a generous, giving heart, a tender soul, behind those gaudy feathers. The man beneath the trappings is sensitive, caring, and loving. I see you with Gaila and know that you are wise and witty. You make me a better man for all that I cannot help but stick my foot in my mouth when you are around. Half this town is in love with you, but I like to think that only I know you.”

Giacomo kept shaking his head through the whole of Leonardo’s tirade. “You know nothing... have no idea what I truly am. If you did, you would run away screaming.” He drew a deep breath and turned around in the tub to face Leonardo. “I cannot love you because I do not want you dead.”

“What?” Leonardo decided he must have mis-heard. He stepped closer, kneeling beside the tub. “I am not going to die, Giacomo. I am here, strong and healthy, far too grumpy for my own good, and too damned stubborn to go anywhere.”

He gave the man a forced smile, unable to figure out why he said the things he did when Giacomo was around, but he knew that part of him had eased at Giacomo’s words. They sounded like a confession of love. Leonardo was going to convince him that they could do this, together. “Allow me to tend you, Giacomo. Then we can discuss this notion of yours further, yes?”

The courtesan looked at him silently, and Leonardo had no idea what was going on behind those fathomless eyes. Then he sighed, nodded and shifted, turning his back to Leonardo.

Leonardo snatched a cloth from the side of the tub and dipped it in the water. He wrung it out over Giacomo’s shoulders and swiped it gently over his back, removing the dried blood. He frowned as he looked at the pale skin. He could swear that the mottling was less, not more than before, though that was impossible. It had only been a few hours at most and the bruises should be darkening... Leonardo puzzled over this as he continued to slide the cloth over Giacomo’s back.

The man was still, making neither sign nor sound that would suggest he was in pain. If anything, he seemed to be gradually relaxing under Leonardo’s hands.

“Shall I wash your hair? I would rather wait, and tend to your injuries first,” Leonardo asked, his voice quiet, unwilling to break the calm between them.

“What?” Giacomo chuckled. “Of course not! I’m no invalid and can manage on my own. Just... would you give me a moment?”

Leonardo pulled away reluctantly, his thumb caressing Giacomo’s shoulder before he let his hand slide away. He stood and backed away. “Very well. If you need any help, please ask for it.” He stepped out into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaning on it.

He heard the water splashing, then some rustling, and after a short time the door pushed him in the back, making him step aside.

“My apologies.” Giacomo gave him a little smile. He was dressed in a silk robe, his damp hair spilling over his shoulders.

Leonardo wanted to touch, to run his fingers through Giacomo’s hair, to tug his lips forward, until he could taste that damp skin. He motioned to the bed and cleared his throat. “Just... you should lie down... robe off, so that I can see to you.” The words kept sticking in his throat, but he forced them out.

Giacomo’s eyes widened. “Lie down? Robe off? So that you can see me?” His lips twitched as if he was trying to hold back laughter. “Very well, Signor Doctor.” He untied his belt and shrugged, making the slippery fabric slide down to pool around his feet.

“Stop provoking me, dammit! You know what I mean! Unless you want to keep the scars marring that beautiful skin of yours, it needs tending.”

Leonardo let his eyes roam and had to shake himself to keep his thoughts clinical.

“Admit you just want to put your hands on me,” Giacomo teased as he moved to lie on the bed. He put his head on his folded arms and peeked at Leonardo from under the fall of damp hair.

“Always,” Leonardo whispered beneath his breath. “I’m a doctor, Giacomo. I cannot help without touching you.” He gathered the cloths and salve from the bathing chamber and moved to the bedside. He dropped the cloths and barely kept the pots of salve from tipping over in his surprise. The courtesan’s back had no more welts, just thin, red lines with green bruises. And though it was widespread with some dark marks marring his firm buttocks, he looked to have been healing for days, not mere hours.

“How is this possible?” He skimmed his palm over the taut skin. He had to touch to believe it.

“Hm?” Giacomo glanced over his shoulder. “I told you it was not that bad. I will be fine. But you can still touch me. I love your hands on me.” He dropped his head back onto his arms and shifted imperceptibly, spreading his legs.

Leonardo’s breath caught and he couldn’t stop the way his hand lingered along the gentle swell of Giacomo’s ass, touching with tender fingers. His heart was already in his throat and Giacomo’s admission made it no easier for him to keep his head. “You’re teasing me now,” he forced out with a shaky exhale.

He reached for the salve, trying to concentrate on that, on being a healer, as he scooped up a dollop of the cream. He warmed it in his palm before rubbing it into Giacomo’s skin.

Giacomo purred. “A bit lower now,” he murmured.

Leonardo groaned, but managed to massage the salve into the bruises and faded welts. He still didn’t understand how Giacomo’s healing had progressed so quickly, but at the moment, he barely had the presence of mind to keep from ravishing the man. The salve was creamy and smooth, with a delicious herbal scent. It made Giacomo’s skin gleam in the flickering candlelight, as though the damned courtesan needed any help to turn Leonardo’s brain to mush. He was captivated and caught, all thought of questioning him, of demanding that he allow himself to love Leonardo, had flown out the window with all that glorious skin bared to his eyes.

“You do not play fair,” he croaked.

Giacomo chuckled into the pillow. “You are a doctor. So you should kiss it better.”

“That is unsanitary,” Leonardo grumbled, but he didn’t have will left to resist and was soon stretched out beside the man, his hand running over his back and thighs. “I would prefer to kiss your lips, not make further demands of you, amato.”

Giacomo chuckled again. “You do not want to kiss my ass, hm?” He shifted onto his side to face Leonardo. “Then you are welcome to kiss my lips.”

“Welcome to?” Leonardo asked, his lips curling up. “So, you prefer my lips on your ass?” He neared, hovering for an instant before he pressed their lips together. “I would shower you with kisses. I would take care of you, keep you safe... if you will but let me, Giacomo. Please, say you will?”

“Making conditions already, are we?” Giacomo murmured against Leonardo’s lips. “So your love for me has limits, then?”

Leonardo shook his head. He loved him with all that he had, had never felt like this before, would do anything for this man. The intensity of his feelings took his breath away, stealing his words, so he tried to answer with himself instead. He kissed Giacomo, deep and claiming, pressed his still-clothed form against the courtesan’s bare skin, nudged one leg between his thighs and held them there, intertwined, afraid to let go.

Giacomo hummed his approval and opened up for the kiss, his arm snaking around Leonardo’s body, pulling him close. Leonardo couldn’t think after that and didn’t even want to try. He simply responded. This man felt so right in his arms, pressed up against him.

Giacomo pulled back for breath and dove into another kiss, pushing Leonardo down onto his back. His hand tangled into Leonardo’s hair, keeping him in place and kissing him as if trying to drink all air from his lungs.

Leonardo let himself go, his hands roaming as he bucked up against the man. He opened his mouth, allowed himself to be plundered and imagined himself claimed and owned. That sent his pulse flaring and he moaned, nearly whimpering with need. “Giacomo!” he begged.

The courtesan raised his head to look into Leonardo’s face with wide dark eyes. “What?” he panted.

“Please, please I need you! I know you are sore... so take me instead,” he offered, holding Giacomo’s gaze, though he flushed crimson.

Giacomo’s face instantly closed, as if a wooden mask fell over it. “No! I’m not sore,” he protested. “I want you... ”

Leonardo wished he understood what was wrong, how the man could take more. He was a doctor, should know better, but he could not refuse Giacomo, had never been able to. Instead of oil, he decided the salve would be better, more healing and far more slippery. “If you are certain?” he asked, but he was already scooting off the bed, kicking his boots off even as his lips lingered on Giacomo’s. It was awkward and took twisting and bending, but he managed to slide off his trousers without removing his lips from Giacomo’s.

“Oh, yes!” Giacomo breathed. He kissed back, shifting and adjusting to keep their lips joined. But finally he pulled back, laughing. “Hurry! I want you naked.”

Chuckling, Leonardo stripped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He paused, panting, and licked his lips. “You have me.” He held up his arms and stood there, getting his breath.

Giacomo looked at him silently, his eyes sliding up and down Leonardo’s body. “You are beautiful,” he breathed softly.

But Leonardo shook his head, denying Giacomo’s words, as he sank to the mattress, gathering Giacomo up in his arms. “You are the beautiful one. You make angels weep, amato.”

The courtesan went into Leonardo’s arms willingly, wrapped himself around him. “You are probably right,” he murmured, peppering Leonardo’s face with little kisses. “But that would be for an entirely different reason than you think.”

“You are too modest,” Leonardo rumbled, his mouth pressing against Giacomo’s neck. He reached for the pot of salve, took a dollop and reached down between the man’s legs. “Open for me, my beauty.”

Giacomo placed one last kiss onto Leonardo’s lips and shifted, flipping onto his stomach, spreading his legs. “Touch me!” he invited.

Leonardo did as bid, carefully twisting and prodding, stopping only to gather more salve. His cock was throbbing, eager to be buried in the man’s heat. “I want you, Giacomo,” he murmured, dragging his lips over Giacomo’s back, deftly avoiding the bruises and welts.

The courtesan moaned, arching into Leonardo’s lips. “I’m yours, Bones,” he gasped.

“Not like this,” he breathed into Giacomo’s neck, nipping at the soft skin. “I want to see your eyes. Please?”

Giacomo rolled over and opened his arms. “Come here.”

Leonardo moved up the man’s body, lapping at his lips and settling between his thighs. He pressed his cock against Giacomo’s, moaning at the sensation. “Touch me,” he begged.

The courtesan bucked at the teasing touch. His hands stroked along Leonardo’s flanks and squeezed his buttocks, pulling him down. “I love your weight on top of me,” he murmured.

Leonardo couldn’t help the way his body bore down, pressing Giacomo into the mattress. “Spread your legs for me,” he panted. “If I do not hurry, this will be over before it begins.”

“Eager,” Giacomo teased, but obeyed, pulling his knees up and opening himself for Leonardo without hesitation or restraint. The black of his dilated pupils almost completely drowned the blue of his irises, and his lips were parted as he breathed in quick, excited breaths.

Leonardo took a last bit of salve and slicked his aching cock. Drawing one last deep breath, he paused, hovering over Giacomo, memorizing him, so beautiful, and _his._ He pressed in and did not stop until he was fully seated. Perfect heat surrounded him, the muscles undulating, and he groaned in abandon.

Giacomo’s eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip, holding his breath till they were fully joined. Then he took a few deep breaths, and Leonardo felt him relax a little, as the worst of the burning was over. His hands slid up Leonardo’s arms, stroking, caressing. “Feel good?” he whispered.

“You have no idea,” Leonardo gasped, hips taut as he restrained himself. “Tell me you want this, amato. That you need this, _me,_ ” he demanded, his eyes boring into Giacomo’s as he held himself back, coiled tight, tensing for permission and more.

“You have no idea,” Giacomo smiled, squeezing Leonardo’s biceps. He brought his legs up and crossed them at the small of Leonardo’s back. “God help me, I want you... ”

That confession spilling from Giacomo’s lips was all it took. The dam broke and he was thrusting hard, swiveling his hips, plundering, taking, claiming; every fiber of his being attuned to Giacomo as he chased his climax.

The courtesan cried out, his fingers digging into Leonardo’s arms. But he did not try to stop him, nor did he ask for mercy. He rode Leonardo’s assault and even pressed his heels into his back, urging him on.

Leonardo growled and tried to fight off his climax. With Giacomo writhing beneath him, taking all he had, Leonardo was quickly overwhelmed. The sounds that Giacomo made... God! They inflamed Leonardo, drove his hips harder, turning his spine to liquid fire. He never wanted this to end, never wanted to stop, but he was close, too near the edge. He reached for Giacomo, wrapped a still slick fist around his cock, and began tugging even as he slowed and lengthened his thrusts.

It was no use. There was no holding back, no stopping the rush, and the long drag of his cock over Giacomo’s clenching muscles only heightened every sensation. He cried out, “Giacomo!” and shoved his cock deep, hips stuttering as he came in a vision-whitening burst.

His fist tightened on Giacomo’s length and he was lucid enough to stroke the man through his own climax, pearly white seed striping their chests before Leonardo collapsed. He barely kept a knee up so that he didn’t completely squash Giacomo, but he was panting, his body heavy and boneless. His lips sought Giacomo’s as he rolled them to the side, their legs intertwined and his softening cock still buried in the courtesan’s body.

Giacomo’s eyes were closed and his breathing was harsh, but he was smiling, even if his smile was a little strained and lopsided. “You are a force of nature, Bones,” he murmured.

Leonardo flushed as he realized how hard he’d ridden the man. He swallowed and dragged his lips over Giacomo’s neck, up to his ear. “Forgive me. I do not know what overtook me. I swear, Giacomo, I am no savage.” He huffed out a regretful breath and soothed his lover’s skin, mindful of his injuries as he rolled further back, and tugged him onto his chest.

Giacomo’s lashes fluttered up and he gave Leonardo an amused look. “It was not a complaint.” But his eyelids were growing too heavy for him to keep open, and he made himself more comfortable against Leonardo’s side, obviously already well on his way to sleep.

Leonardo ducked his head as warmth suffused him. It was hard to believe that he could make Giacomo, with all his experience, breathless. “I was inconsiderate of your injuries. Let me at least tend you,” he murmured into Giacomo’s hair. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shift or pull away from the weight on his chest, but he had a duty.

With great care and deliberate moves, he extricated himself. As he stood, he stopped and gazed at his lover, drank in the sight of his debauchery, all caused by Leonardo. He retrieved two cloths, one wet, the other dry and tenderly cleaned Giacomo’s skin. He was intact, and Leonardo sighed in relief that he had not added to his injuries.

He settled in the bed once again, wrapped his arms around Giacomo, burying his nose in golden waves. “Sleep well, beloved.”

Leonardo did not fall quickly into dreams. The still, dark silence gave him time to think, time to realize that Giacomo had never confessed his love, had never admitted that Leonardo was anything but a good fuck, and had deftly distracted him from further questions. If he was honest with himself, he was unsurprised that Giacomo had once again kept his secrets, was still an enigma wrapped in the glorious packaging which he used to keep everyone, especially Leonardo, at arm’s length. _’Damn.’_

~~*~~

Leonardo awoke after the best night’s sleep he’d had in far too long. Guilt cut through his lethargy, pulling him out of the blissful haze of dreams. He’d failed Cristoforo and he was going to lose him. Hot tears stung his eyes and grief choked him. He should not have taken the solace Giacomo’s arms offered, he didn’t deserve it.

Giacomo snuffled into his chest, pressing his cheek over Leonardo’s heart, curling more tightly around him, as though he was afraid that Leonardo was leaving. Leonardo ran a hand through the courtesan’s hair and huffed out a soft sigh. Giacomo had needed him, even if he was too proud to say so. Leonardo might not have deserved his attentions, but Giacomo had not deserved to be abandoned, allowed to limp home alone. He didn’t want to move, would stay here as long as the man would have him, but nature called most insistently.

He arose from the bed, smiling fondly at Giacomo’s quiet murmur of displeasure. He tucked the blankets around his lover and stretched, joints cracking and muscles stretching as his body settled. With a sleepy sigh, he stepped away from the bed and took care of his morning’s ablutions. He returned to find Giacomo burrowed further into the bed, long lashes brushing his cheeks, hair in disarray, and lips slightly parted. He looked adorable, vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.

No one had ever stolen Leonardo’s breath like Giacomo. None had made him feel such things: passion, jealousy, love. This morning, with the sun risen, Leonardo wanted to make love to Giacomo in the daylight; to see his blond hair gleaming in the sun’s rays, to know him intimately with no shadows or shade to hide anything.

Leonardo kissed Giacomo, a chaste whisper along his lips, and breathed with him for a few moments, murmuring sweet nothings, urging him to wake. Giacomo’s eyelids fluttered revealing eyes that were black pools in the dim light, but then he turned back into the pillow, soft exhales even and slow, already back asleep. Leonardo dropped a kiss to each eyelid before straightening.

The drapes were heavy brocade, weighted and firmly closed. He pushed them apart, reaching to lift the shades, which were stiff and thick, heavy to shunt aside. The panes of glass were darkened making Leonardo shake his head. He lifted the wooden frame and unlatched the dark and dusty shutters. They groaned with obvious disuse as he struggled to force them apart. Finally, warm, golden light flooded the room.

A panicked cry made him spin around.

“Close it!” Giacomo’s agitated demand was muffled by the blankets under which he had taken cover. “Close the damned window! The shutters, the curtains - close them all!”

Leonardo stood, shocked for a moment, before springing into action. The shutters creaked as he pulled them closed, then the sash slammed heavily, the shades clattering against the sill as he grabbed the curtains, tugging them hard enough to tear in his haste. They held, and the sun was banished from the bedroom once again. “Giacomo?” he asked, heart in his throat, limbs shaking. He did not understand what he’d done, but the fear in his lover’s voice had been real.

Giacomo peeked from under the blanket, then slowly pulled it down and sat up. He did not speak at once, rubbing his eyes. Finally, he dropped his hands into his lap and looked at Leonardo dolefully. “I... I cannot bear the sunlight,” he said quietly, almost whispered.

Leonardo took hesitant steps forward. “Forgive me, I had no idea. I-I merely wished to see you by day,” he offered as an explanation. The words had sounded better in his head. “Is this... are you ill?”

Giacomo swallowed and fiddled with the edge of the blanket. His face clearly reflected his inner struggle. Finally, he shook his head. “I could take the easy way out,” he said, his voice still soft and somehow brittle. “But if we want this thing between us to... survive, I cannot lie to you.” He swallowed again and raised his head to look at Leonardo. “I’m not ill, Leonardo. “I’m... something entirely different.”

Leonardo rested his knee on the bed and pried one of Giacomo’s hands from the blanket. “Then there is something between us? Something more than you merely humoring me?” He lifted the hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “I had hoped for that.”

“Humouring?” Giacomo frowned in confusion. “You thought I was toying with you?” He shook his head. “No. I would never do that.”

Leonardo leaned forward, inexorably drawn forward into Giacomo’s sphere. “I could not tell. I was only sure that I have fallen hopelessly in love with you and you... you _avoided_ me.” His lips hovered over Giacomo’s, his exhaled breath making a stray piece of hair flutter, voice soft even as he gave vent to his hurt.

The courtesan pressed a hand to Leonardo’s chest, pushing him away gently. “No, please, let me make my confession or I might lose heart and... keep my secret.” He drew a deep breath. “Surely, you’ve noticed some... odd things about me?”

Leonardo sat back and tried not to pout. He didn’t want to talk, but part of him was intrigued by the idea of Giacomo having a secret and confessing it. “Odd? You are no more odd than any other citizen of Venice. You are more beautiful than almost all combined. You have a wicked sense of humor and a keen intellect. What was I to notice?”

Giacomo sighed. “That I’m never out during daytime... That I always feel cold to your touch... That I can see in the dark and can move very fast... Or how quickly I heal... And you have never seen me eat or drink,” he finished quietly. He searched Leonardo’s face as if expecting him to pick up the clues and figure out what he was trying to say.

Leonardo’s brows knitted and he reached for one of Giacomo’s hands, his fingers sliding over the soft, pale skin. “You intrigue me, and mention these... oddities, as you call them, but I have nothing in my experience to call on to say that you are something else.” He looked up from Giacomo’s hand, head cocked expectantly. “I confess that I should have paid closer attention to such things, but, in truth, I have ever been blinded by you. So what is it, what secret are you trying to share?”

Giacomo bit his lip, his face a pageant of emotions. “I’m... I’m not human, Leonardo,” he whispered.

“Not human?” Leonardo chuckled. “Is this a joke? You are no dog, cat, nor fish.”

Giacomo gave him a shaky smile. “You do not believe me... I’m no dog, cat, nor fish, but I’m not a man like you, either. My race is much older than yours. I’m... I’m a vampyre.”

Leonardo pulled back as though slapped. “A vampyre? You mean you stalk the night, drinking blood and eating the flesh of the living? You are a cold-hearted killer?” he growled. “Do not make fun of me, Giacomo! I believed you when you said you were not toying with me. But what do you call this?”

“I call this honesty! I am what I am. And yes - I feed on blood, though I do not kill for it. You saw my dogs... They are my patrons.”

Leonardo boggled. “You expect me to swallow this... this nonsense! I am no child, Giacomo. I grew out of believing in fairy tales long ago.” His words were sharp, protesting ill treatment.

“Why would I make up something like this?” Giacomo exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just wish for there to be no lies between us!” He leaned forward, looking at Leonardo with wide earnest eyes. “You are no child, but I remember the time when you were. I have no brothers, Leonardo, and never had. That night in Bologna... it was me. I am Jacques.”

Leonardo swallowed, blood hammering in his ears. “Bullshit! You are younger than I! Are you trying to make me leave? Is that it? Have I displeased you? Gotten in the way of some wealthy donor? Why would you say such things?”

“Damn it, Bones!” Giacomo thumped the mattress with his fist. “Just listen to me! I am much, _much_ older than you! It was me in that alley. I do not quite recall what you looked like back then, but I do remember hearing you swear in Gaelic. _Damnú air!_ ” Giacomo smiled. “It was so out of place in the middle of Italy that it has stayed with me. Chabrier told me later what you had done for me. I felt so grateful to you... I still do. I am so sorry they had to lie to you… tell you that I had died...”

Leonardo backed away from the bed, his blood running cold. He had not used that particular epithet since coming to Venice. “H-h-how?” he stammered, still unable to believe his eyes and ears. His heart told him the truth, but he was no longer listening, certain that this was some plot to make him a fool.

“I am Jacques, Leonardo. My race is immortal, but we can be killed. But for you, that night could have been my last one.”

“Immortal?” Leonardo sniffed. “You will not die? So why pretend to be a courtesan? Why take such a role when you could be a king?” He shook his head, couldn’t stop. His eyes narrowed, the scientist snuffing out the man. “Prove it to me. Besides some things that are circumstantial at best. Show me... _vampyre._ ”

Giacomo looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Leonardo’s feet were like lead, but he took slow steps toward the bed and stood by it, tilting his head. “Feed from me.”

Giacomo recoiled. “What?! No! _No!_ ” He shook his head vigorously. “You do not know what you are asking for... I cannot!”

“Why?” Leonardo leaned closer. “Because it is nonsense! Have you started this so that whatever ‘secret’ you do have will not seem so absurd?” Licking his lips, he tilted his head further in offering and grabbed Giacomo’s hand, touching it to his neck. “My blood runs close to the surface... just here. Ripe for the taking.”

Giacomo’s pupils widened, his eyes becoming almost completely black. He wrung his hand out of Leonardo’s grip and shoved him away with unexpected force that made Leonardo stumble back a few steps. “I do not drink human blood!” Giacomo growled.

“Then what are you?” Leonardo hissed as he scanned the room for his clothes. He was angry and hurt and didn’t like being made fun of.

Giacomo sighed, suddenly looking weary and defeated. “Obviously, I am a fool who wanted to be honest with the man he loves.”

Leonardo scrambled into his clothes, barely hearing Giacomo. “Honest?” he spat. “This is not honesty. This is a travesty. A farce. Do you plan to go to Gaila or Claudio and laugh at me? Mock my declaration?” He shoved his feet into his boots and shook his head. “I gave you my heart and you re-pay it with this?”

Slamming the door behind him, he rushed down the stairs, barely avoiding being tripped by the dogs that were growling and snarling. He ignored them, racing out into the sunshine, into the bright day that felt suddenly grey and cold as his insides clenched and his eyes pricked. _’Goddammit!’_

~~*~~

Cristoforo was shivering, his frail body trembling beneath the heavy quilts. The room was near sweltering, and Leonardo had been forced to strip down to his breeches and linen shirt. The air was heavy and thick, near suffocating, but he couldn’t leave his uncle’s side, not now, not when Cristoforo was all he had left. Guilt, grief, and sharp regret tore at Leonardo, but he buried his feelings, tending his patient, easing his suffering.

The long, lonely hours, especially in the darkest depths of night were the hardest. They gave Leonardo too much time to think, too much time to relive every word, too much time for the ache in his chest to grow into a hollow void. He berated himself, cursing himself for a fool, and swore that he’d find a way to make it right with Giacomo. But his first duty was to his uncle.

Not two days later, Leonardo was slumped at Cristoforo’s bedside, fatigue blurring his vision, when the man stirred. It was not the restless tumble of a stiffening body, but stretching, the muscles recovering. Cristorofo’s eyes fluttered open and they were clear, lucid, burning through the haze of exhaustion. “Leo...” he whispered, his voice rough.

Leonardo knocked over his chair in his haste, tears streaking down his cheeks as he held water to Cristoforo’s lips. “I have you, Uncle. You are going to be fine.”

The irony of it was that just as Cristoforo began recovering, growing stronger every day, Leonardo was failing, turning into a shade, a ghost of his former self. Cristoforo looked at him with too knowing eyes and patted the bed. Leonardo knew his uncle would recover, but he was still so fragile, a mere shadow of the vibrant man he had been.

“Tell me what I have missed, Leonardo.” Cristoforo settled into the mattress, resting his head on the pillows propping him up, his eyes closing as he listened.

Leonardo did his best, but very consciously left out anything to do with a certain blond-haired courtesan. He told all the latest happenings and gossip, concluding with the most momentous. "You did miss the furor. The king of France came for a visit."  
"Henri was here?"

Leonardo chuckled. "Indeed. The whole city was in an uproar, from the Doge down to the lowliest peon. The fuss was almost amusing to watch and the spectacle astounding. But Henri himself seems too much a dandy and more interested in his personal indulgences than actually helping Venice against the Turks--"

“Father!” Claudio burst into the room, cheeks flushed and an honest to god smile on his face.

Leonardo stood, allowing him to sit and take Cristoforo’s hand. Claudio looked up at Leonardo, deep gratitude still shining from his dark eyes. “He had a good day?”

Leonardo nodded. He still felt out of step with his cousin, but something in the surety of shared loss, the grief, and now the joy of recovery had broken the ice between them.

Claudio turned back to Cristoforo, lifting his hand to his cheek. “Father?”

“What, my son?” Cristoforo’s voice was still rough, but just like his body, it was firmer with each passing day.

“You are going to be a grandfather!” Claudio announced, pride clear in his face.

“Claudio! Come here, son,” Cristoforo beckoned. “New life! An heir! That is the best remedy for my ailment! Now I can be free of poking and prodding and vile unguents! I will be back on my feet in no time!”

Cristoforo beamed, his joy unmistakable. It shone from his eyes and wide smile, in the way he wrapped his arms around Claudio in a warm embrace. Whatever hellish time Cristoforo’s illness had been for all of them, it had renewed and strengthened the bond between father and son. “I have never been more proud, Claudio.”

The tender kiss he bestowed upon Claudio’s brow and the way that Claudio, the stiff-necked, cold-hearted bastard, melted into the touch and the love from his father made Leonardo smile. He was left with no one, and the smile was hollow, but he would not detract from the joyous family moment.

“Send for my daughter!” Cristoforo called out over Claudio’s shoulder, his voice surprisingly strong.

Leonardo faded into the shadows and left, unobserved. He stopped a passing maid and left instructions to fetch Jocelina before dragging himself outside.

He hadn’t felt so utterly alone since his father’s death.

~~*~~

Leonardo stepped out into a too-bright morning, the cheerful sunshine only serving to underscore his bleak mood. He was exhausted, stretched thin; and lonely as all hell. The worst part was that it was his own damned fault. Even now, nearly a fortnight later, he could not quite put a finger on why he reacted so badly to Giacomo’s ‘confession’. He hoped that the walk home would clear his head and provide some answers.

“Leonardo!”

He kept walking, practically lost in a daze, a circle of hazy thoughts, memories, and emotions swirling in his head.

“Dammit, man! Wait up! Leonardo!” A shrill whistle rent the air, pulling Leonardo up short.

He stopped and turned slowly only to be confronted with a red-faced Scotty jogging up to him. “What is wrong with you?! Did ye not hear me?”

Wide-eyed, Leonardo just shook his head.

“I’ve been calling your name, you daft bugger! Since you set foot out of your uncle’s home!” Scotty tipped his head back and examined Leonardo carefully. “You look terrible.” He took Leonardo’s arm and began dragging him back the way he’d come.

“What? No, Scotty! I am going home!”

“Aye, and I’ll be giving you a ride there straight away.” He tugged harder. “If’n you’ll get in the damned boat!”

Leonardo went limp, let Scotty drag him back toward the pier and unsteadily stepped into the boat. He slumped into the seat, eyes vacant.

The boat slipped away from the pier and began gliding down the busy canal. Scotty started chattering almost immediately. “I was worried about you, Leonardo. The last time I came to call at your uncle’s, it was not looking so good. Everyone seemed in better spirits this day. Is it true? Signor Cristoforo is going to recover?”

Leonardo gave Scotty a weak smile and nodded. “He is, and is going to be blessed with a grandbaby as well.” He looked away, staring into the murky water of the canal. “It was a good day.” And he knew he should be happy, should feel something besides hollow.

Scotty grinned. “A baby! Well, I’ll be...” he chuckled. “Didn’t think that stiff-necked cousin of yours even knew where his wife’s bed was, let alone what to do in it!”

He shook his head, kept up the flow of words and Leonardo let the chatter wash over him until he heard mention of Giacomo.

“-- and that courtesan, Giacomo, has made quite the catch. A rich noble from Rome has swept him away, taken him for his own. Set him up right pretty, I heard. The news spread like wildfire, never heard such gnashing of teeth. You’d think the men in this town had no other whore to abuse. Signorina Gaila was most put out.”

Leonardo sat up, rocking the boat, as he stammered out, “W-what did you say?”

Scotty looked at him, taken aback by his reaction. “That the men in this town--”

“No! Not that. About Giacomo!”

“He left?”

“When? When did he leave?” Panic had Leonardo gasping for air.

“I am not sure, Leonardo. Why? What has you in such a state?” The boat bumped at the pier closest to Leonardo’s home.

Leonardo leapt out of the boat and nearly ran to his door. “Do not leave! Wait for me!” he called back over his shoulder.

~~*~~

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/weepingnaiad/pic/000hpx18)   


Scotty didn’t wait. He followed in Leonardo’s wake, confused mumbling and swearing drifting to Leonardo’s ears as he frantically rushed around his home, agitation, heart ache, and sheer exhaustion making him loopy.

Finally, Scotty stopped him with a firm hand, a soft concerned voice, and a stern gaze. Leonardo was forced to admit that he was good for nothing at this point, unable to even think clearly, let alone plan for what he needed and wanted to do. He took a nap, even the fitful sleep helping his addled mind.

When he awoke, he felt better, his thoughts less chaotic and the ache in his chest somewhat controlled, no longer stealing his breath with every thought. He bathed and ate, swallowing a fortifying drink of Scotch before steeling himself to face Gaila.

The sun sunk slowly behind Leonardo, bathing the front of Gaila’s manor in vivid reds and oranges. He swallowed heavily and knocked, trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

The door opened and Gaila’s chaperone, Joséphine, looked at him dispassionately. Leonardo was suddenly reminded of Giacomo’s manservant, Jérôme. The woman’s regard of him was no warmer than Jérôme’s had been.

“Good evening, Signore,” Josephine said, her voice even and polite. However, she did not invite him to enter.

Taking a deep breath, Leonardo straightened and met Joséphine’s eyes. “May I speak with your mistress? I do not have a previous appointment, but I have urgent business with her, if you please?”

The woman did not answer at once. “Signorina Gaila is not receiving tonight,” she said finally. But then she obviously read something in Leonardo’s eyes that made her take pity on him. “But I could tell her it is a matter of life and death?” she suggested.

Leonardo nodded. “Please? I would be forever indebted to you.”

She left him to wait in the hall and soon returned, beckoning him to follow. Leading him to the door to the sitting room, she opened it, ushered him inside and closed the door behind him.

Gaila stood by the open window, her arms crossed over her chest, and the look on her face did not bode well for Leonardo.

“I have agreed to see you only because you are Montgomery’s friend,” she informed him bluntly.

The room was close, dimly lit by candles, but the air was frosty. Gaila had never looked so austere, her normally bright visage shuttered and cold.

Leonardo refused to be cowed, though he trembled inside. “Thank you,” he replied.

Stepping forward, he lifted his hands, pleading. “Please, I suspect I know why you are angry with me, but I need to know. What has happened to Giacomo?”

A sneer pursed Gaila’s lips. “Have you not heard? Giacomo left for Rome. You should be pleased with yourself – it is exactly what you expected him to do, right? He tossed you aside for a rich patron. You had him figured out so easily. Bravo.”

Gaila’s words pierced Leonardo’s heart and he gave up all pretense of holding it together. He slumped into a nearby chair and looked up at her. She was frightening in her intensity, in the cold light of her dark eyes, the way her full lips curled harshly. Leonardo took a deep breath, held it, trying to push away the pain. He’d earned this. “I-I did not... h-he told me fantastic tales! B-but, I was wrong... so very wrong...” he stammered over his words, very probably making no sense, but it was all he could do at the idea that Giacomo was gone, had given himself to another.

Gaila stared at him with dark, merciless eyes. “What? Now that he belongs to someone else, you suddenly decide you want him back? How very human!” she spat.

“H-human?” he stuttered. He found himself on his knees, pleading. “Please, Signorina, tell me, do you know of these tales that Giacomo spun? What he claimed to be?” His heart hammering in his chest, Leonardo stilled, terrified of her answer.

“Tales?” Gaila’s voice dropped to ominous whisper. “Mon dieu! Do you know how long it has taken him to heal his broken heart, to allow himself to feel again? Why did he have to fall for someone as thick as you? Tales, my ass!” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into Leonardo. “Tell me, Signor Doubter, when you look at me - what do you see?”

“A-a beautiful woman? Ferocious in her defense of a dear friend?” He knew what she was asking, tried to deny how similar her eyes were to Giacomo’s. He was being purposefully obtuse, but only because he could not yet accept what Giacomo had said.

Gaila practically snarled at him and grabbing him by the arm, hauled him up to his feet. Then she gave him a shove, strong enough to send him stumbling backwards till he landed ungracefully onto a sofa a good two yards away.

“You are a fool, McCoy, and a coward!”

Leonardo gaped up at her. No mere woman, or man, could be that strong. “Y-you are a-a-a...” He licked his lips and ducked his head, could not say the word. “Vampyre?” he whispered, barely audible.

“No, I am not.” Gaila’s tone was clipped, but the fury had gone from her voice now that Leonardo was finally done with denial. “I am a mere changeling. Jacques is a trueblood. A born vampyre.”

“B-b-born? Changeling? I do not understand.” He looked at Gaila. She was still terrifying and he was glad that she had not strayed closer. “What do you mean? And, you called him Jacques? So it was all true? He was the injured man in Bologna? But how? It does not make sense!”

Gaila folded her arms once again, her lips curled. “You did not believe him when he tried to tell you. So why would you believe me?”

Leonardo stilled, considered an answer that might convince Gaila of his sincerity, but nothing he could conjure sounded in the least believable. He would have to go with honesty. “Perhaps because I did believe him. Or at least some part of me knew he spoke the truth. But it was hard to accept, harder to believe that the man that I thought he was... well, that he wasn’t a man at all, b-but a childhood monster! A monster used to terrify misbehaving children into staying in their beds.”

Gaila gave him a scornful smirk. “I thought you had more sense than to believe in old wives’ tales. Jacques -- a monster?” She snorted.

“And now you know why I did not believe him! It was... I still cannot wrap my head around it. It just... it made more sense to believe that he was making it up to push me away... he had done that already, so it was not a far leap.”

Gaila sighed. “The Vampyre are not monsters. They are an ancient race that walked this world long before the humans. But I think Jacques told you that, did he not?”

Leonardo nodded, but he could recall little of what Giacomo had told him. All he remembered was the feeling of betrayal gnawing in his gut, of being lied to and pushed away, of not being good enough. “I-I still do not understand? You say you are a-a Changeling? Gia-- Jacques made you one of-of them?”

“Not he.” Gaila’s face darkened. “It was another vampyre. The vampyre strongly disapprove of making changelings. And of changelings themselves. But humans are still changed. For their beauty... or talent... And when our makers grow tired of us, they abandon their toys to fare for ourselves as best as we can. We are left between two worlds: ripped from humanity and never accepted by the vampyres.”

She drew a deep breath as if shaking herself mentally. “Jacques never thought less of me because I am a changeling. He helped me survive when my maker cast me aside. He was my mentor, my friend and lover. I owe him my life. And I will not allow anyone to hurt him.” Her eyes once again fixed on Leonardo, and he felt her stare like an iron hand at his throat.

“I am sorry,” he offered, but it was but a pale platitude at best. “Would it help if I tell you that I am sincere? That it does not matter what Gia-- Jacques is? That I love him?’

Gaila pursed her lips. “How does telling that to _me_ help?”

“Because I wish to follow him. To convince him that I was wrong and that I love him. I cannot do that unless you trust me and tell me where he is and who this noble is that has claimed him. Will you?”

Gaila considered him silently for a long moment. “How far are you prepared to go?” she asked finally.

Her words shook him to the core, but he had nothing further to lose. “As far as I must. I would go to hell and back for him.”

Gaila’s lips twitched. “Grand words. Perhaps you will have to live up to them. I believe you have met Chabrier?”

Leonardo recalled the name and glimpses of a handsome shadow when he’d first encountered Jacques. He nodded. “I remember his home more than the man himself.”

“Well, he is the one Jacques always seeks out in times of trouble. Jacques went to him. If you want to find him, you will have to go to France.”

“France?” Leonardo stared. “He is not in Rome? There is no nobleman who has claimed his affection?”

Gaila actually chuckled. “He is not in Rome. As for the rest -- you will have to meet Chabrier before you know the answer.”

Leonardo did not know how to react. Hope blossomed in his chest, but he still had a sinking feeling in his gut. There had to be more that Gaila was not telling him. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but please, do I stand a chance? Is it possible for me to regain Jacques’ affection and trust?”

Gaila sighed. “I do not know. Jacques loves you. But it has taken him a century to heal and to believe he can love and be loved again. You shattered his barely regained hope. Who knows what is going on in his head now? Perhaps he will decide you both are better off apart.”

 _‘Apart?’_ The finality of that echoed in his head. Gradually he realized Gaila had said more, much more. “W-wait. A century? What are you saying?”

“I am saying it has been exactly one hundred years since Jacques lost his lover.”

“B-but, that’s not...” he blinked up at Gaila. “What happened?”

Gaila sighed and moved to sit in one of the armchairs. “Jean was human and Jacques loved him to distraction... ” She looked out the open window, her eyes distant, seeing a time and place of which Leonardo could only guess.

 _Paris, France, 1475_

 _Jacques burst out of the mansion. He didn’t even stop at the stable, eschewing his mount for walking, long strides moving him quickly away from François. François and his prohibition, damn him!_

 _He swallowed back more curses, his feet leading toward the brightly lit hôtels along the Seine. Toward Chabrier and sanity. He couldn’t go to Jean, not tonight. His lover, and he smiled at the thought, always claimed that he was too distracting, that he could not concentrate on painting when Jacques was lounging nearby. Jacques understood. He found it hard to do anything when Jean was near. He was caught by those sparkling green eyes from the first, the way his long hair refused to be restrained, the sweet curve of his lips._

 _Jacques sighed when he looked up. He was at Chabrier’s. He was unsure this was a better choice, but he didn’t feel like walking the streets, and François would not leave him be if he returned home._

 _He rapped on the door and waited to be granted entry, smiling at the gentle maid that waved him in. Joining Chabrier in the library, he snatched his glass, uncaring of its contents, and inhaled deeply of the wine as he flopped ungracefully onto the settee._

 _One eyebrow raised in amusement, Chabrier watched him barge in. “Good night to you too, Jacques,” he said mildly. “It’s nice to see you, mon cher.”_

 _Jacques grimaced, but opened his eyes and looked up. The words were caught up in his throat and, even though Chabrier’s greeting warmed him, he couldn’t find a smile. He shook his head and dropped his eyes. “It is not a good night. Damn François and his...” he stumbled, knowing that Chabrier didn’t approve, so fell silent._

 _“Ah.” Chabrier sighed and rose to fill another glass. He could not pretend he was surprised, but wished that Jacques and François did not goad each other. The boy was hot-tempered, impetuous and stubborn, but the blame was not solely Jacques’s. François was often such a bastard that Chabrier could not countenance him either. “So…” he said, settling back into his cushioned chair. “What did you and your uncle fight over this time?”_

 _Jacques took a deep steadying breath and shrugged. He didn’t look at Chabrier. He knew well enough what he’d say. “Jean.” Just saying his lover’s name made Jacques ‘s heart sing. He was the most talented, beautiful creature Jacques had ever seen. Jean made him happy as nothing ever had. He could sit for hours and just watch Jean paint. Why couldn’t François understand?_

 _Chabrier gave a little sigh of frustration. “What got into you, child? To do something as stupid as that! Do you bait him on purpose?”_

 _“It was unintentional, but I meant every word.” He loved Jean and did not understand why his uncle and Chabrier could not see that. “Jean is special. Unlike anyone I have ever known.”_

 _Chabrier shook his head. “They are all special. The longer you live, the more of them you will meet. Enjoy your human as long as you find him attractive. But do not flaunt him to François. I hope you had enough common sense not to name your human paramour?”_

 _Jacques’s eyes widened, his breath stopping for a moment. “I-I may have rambled a bit... I cannot seem to help myself where Jean is concerned. He inspires me.” He looked up at Chabrier, a long curl of hair sliding across his eyes. “François would not harm Jean, would he?”_

 _Chabrier sighed. “I wish I could reassure you. François would never harm you. Or any vampyre. But your boy is only a human. Humans are… disposable. You should have never told him your plan to change your… lover.”_

 _Jacques leaped up, his heart in his throat, anger and fear making him foolhardy. “I have to go! Jean is... he cannot defend himself!”_

 _“Jacques!” Chabrier shot up and grabbed his arm. “You cannot leave now! ‘Tis dawn. Can you not feel it?”_

 _Jacques struggled, cursed, and pulled away before flinging himself at Chabrier. “You do not understand! I have to be there! Go to him!” He growled. “Jean is not disposable!”_

 _“And neither are you!” There was steel both in Chabrier’s voice and grip. “What good would it do him if you killed yourself trying to get to him?”_

 _Jacques sagged. He was not thinking clearly, could not where Jean was concerned. He’d never felt like this before, didn’t understand how to deal with it. He only knew that he needed Jean, needed to see those eyes sparkling, hear his voice, watch his genius explode onto bare plaster. It was a compulsion stronger than blood, than anything. He felt like a caged animal, helpless, frustrated, his heart ready to explode, but his voice was steady, if raw. “Thank you,” he conceded, even as his mind began plotting. He and Jean had to leave Paris, had to get away from François. He would need help, but he wouldn’t ask Chabrier for it._

 _Chabrier felt the moment when Jacques gave in to hard reality. His body was still tense, but the crazed struggling stopped. “I am sorry, child,” Chabrier sighed. “But I cannot allow you to harm yourself. Who knows? Perhaps, I am wrong and have worried you for nothing, and all François will do is have another brawl with you over your taste for human flesh.”_

 _Jacques protested. “It is not a taste for human flesh! You make me sound like a beast! Or that Jean is no better than a farm animal! I love him! Why is that so hard to believe?”_

 _“Oh, I do believe you, Jacques!” Chabrier pulled him back to sit down onto the sofa. “I know you love him. And I wish you all the joy you can draw from this liaison. I just do not want you to do something rash and foolhardy, something that you might regret later.”_

 _Jacques allowed himself to sit, though his very muscle, bone, and sinew were filled with the need to go to his lover. He slumped down, his head resting on Chabrier’s shoulder. The sun was rising, he could feel the oblivion of sleep tugging at him. “I could never regret changing Jean. My only regret is that I have not already done so.”_

 _Chabrier wrapped his arms around Jacques, rocking him slightly, soothingly. “You might not regret it, but what about him? Does he know what you are? And what you are going to do to him? Does he love you more than his god? Is he ready to give up the promise of salvation for the sake of your embrace?”_

 _Jacques took the offered comfort, murmuring into Chabrier’s neck. He hadn’t told Jean everything, hadn’t let on the full truth of what he was, but he had told Jean he was different than the rest, and not merely because he loved men as well as women. Jean was deeply devoted to his art and his god, and a part of Jacques wondered if Jean could give it all up for him. But when they were together all of those fears faded away, lost in the joy of being._

 _“You have not told him, have you?” Chabrier guessed. He sighed. “You know you cannot change him without his consent. That would go against all the rules. You owe him the right of free choice. I do not want to see him go mad when he realizes the truth. And I sure as hellfire do not want you to come to harm from your own changeling.” Steel rang in Chabrier’s voice. “I promised your father to protect you and I intend to do just that, even if you hate me for it.”_

 _“I have tried!” Jacques argued, but his words rang false. He did keep bringing it up, but the topic quickly got lost, easily shunted aside in favor of Jean’s passion for art, for his long rambling tributes to color and form, and Jacques’ desire that grew with each glowing word that spilled from Jean’s sweet lips. It was always easier to ignore the truth than to force it._

 _He hated it when Chabrier reminded him about his father, about the toll his life had taken. His very mother traveled far away, did not stay to raise him once he grew tall and met her eyes when standing. She was still broken from losing Georges and Jacques was a constant reminder of that loss. To have Chabrier tell him once again what he was all too aware of, grated._

 _Still, he loved Chabrier, his mentor... and friend. With a still, small voice he answered, “I could never hate you. Not you.”_

 _Chabrier tightened his arms and kissed the top of his head. “Then promise me you will do everything properly. And only after you have given it a good deal of thought.”_

 _“I swear it. I would never deny Jean the truth!” Jacques avowed, adding quietly, “Or the choice.”_

“Jacques never got the chance to tell Jean the truth. His uncle was ruthlessly efficient and had Jean swept out of Paris before Jacques could get to him. He had the boy on a boat and shipped off to the icy dark of the Norse kingdoms where Jacques could not reach him. He tried, but Jean was dead before he found him, a simple burial with nothing but a rough, wooden cross to mark his passing.”

Gaila turned back to pierce Leonardo with haunted eyes. “And now, he has revealed the truth to you and you spat upon his trust, accused him of deceit and betrayal. He became a courtesan, allowing his body to be used by humans, part as penance, but mostly as vengeance. Debasing himself before humans was the one thing that Jacques could do that François could not prevent and that would make him gnash his teeth in fury. It was a truly apt revenge, but it has taken its toll on Jacques.”

Leonardo shook off the spell Gaila wove, her lyrical voice drawing him in, making him live Jacques’ heartbreak and anguish. He vowed, “I will make it right, Signorina, I swear it.”

“Will you?” She looked at him intently for a long moment, as if re-assessing him. Finally, she nodded. “You can try. He wanted you badly enough. He might take you back.” The corners of her mouth quirked.

A part of Leonardo eased at that small glimmer of hope. He had never been to France, never traveled further than his one journey from Bologna to Venice. This was going to be a test for him, one he hoped he did not fail. He could not afford to think what would happen if he returned home alone, without Jacques. “Thank you. I will do my best to earn the trust you have placed in me.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Paris, France, 1576_

Leonardo stretched his cramped and aching limbs as he settled into his room. His bags arrived before him and he marveled at the efficiency of the inn he’d been recommended. His uncle had, indeed, thought of everything, except a way to make the journey speedier. Still he’d arrived in Paris in one piece, was settled into the stately, if old, inn, with some inkling where to start looking for Jacques.

He'd lingered too long in Venice, working to save those ravaged by plague and had only fled when Cristoforo agreed to leave for the safety of Bologna. But the delay was still too great. Weeks, and now months had passed before he’d made it this far, and unused to the rigors of carriage travel as he was, Leonardo was bone weary and a trifle heartsick.

Paris, with its throngs of people, dizzying number of shops, and so many churches, was intimidating. The city made Venice seem bucolic by comparison; and the style of dress along with the sheer variety and enormity of people made Leonardo feel uneducated, almost backward. He could not honestly imagine Jacques giving this up... for him. And he should not stay, not when his family was threatened by devastating illness. Hope waned, but he held on to it.

Leonardo hired a guide and began to explore Paris, gradually expanding his search area as each of the places that Gaila had suggested proved fruitless. As his travels took him further afield, he began to despair of ever finding Jacques in the teeming masses of Paris. The city somehow thrived after dark and he could see how a vampyre could live undetected in this place.

He returned after another empty sojourn, his feet and back aching. He missed the serenity of Venice’s waterways, the easy comfort of his native tongue, and the warmth of Venice in the autumn. Paris was too harsh, brusque, and cold under its glittering skirts, the constant motion driving an ache between his lungs.

Leonardo looked at the paper, twisting it in his hands. He could ask François, but he had hoped to find Jacques without first consulting his uncle. The two places he had not yet searched were long shots at best, far afield and neither in particularly savory areas, and that gave Leonardo pause. The light rain that began tapping at his window made the decision for him. Tomorrow then.

He folded the paper carefully and prepared for bed. He did not sleep well, his mind playing out one reunion scene after another, with none of them ending happily. But Leonardo was not going to be dissuaded.

He set out in late afternoon, intent on catching François before he left his stately home. Leonardo arrived as the sun was bathing everything in a fiery glow. He’d missed his guess on travel time and arrived early, but he hoped that it would not matter.

François’s home was not as large as he’d expected, but the area was good and the manor was well kept, obviously owned by a wealthy man. He stepped to the door and knocked, determined to see this through.

The door was opened by a manservant, his hair grey but his back unbowed. He gave Leonardo a quick appraisal and then looked at him expectantly.

“Excuse me, Monsieur, I am Leonardo Horatio McCoy, and I need to speak with the master of your house, François Campbell du Nord, if you please?” Leonardo gave a little bow and tried to appear honest and trustworthy.

If the man was surprised by his request, he did not show it. “I am afraid Monsieur Compte cannot receive you, Monsieur.”

“If I am simply here too early, I am willing to wait. Please, Monsieur?” He tried to keep from begging, but his voice still hit that pleading note. “I am trying to locate a friend. I believe he is your master’s nephew? Jacques Tiberius Kirk de la Rivière? I was hoping that your master might be able to tell me of his whereabouts?”

The servant did not answer at once. “You do not have to wait,” he said finally. “I can tell you what you wish to know. Monsieur Jacques is staying at Monsieur Chabrier’s house.”

Leonardo nodded. He had known that, but he wasn’t going to tell the servant that. “Thank you! Can you direct me there? I would be most grateful, Monsieur. I am only recently arrived from Venice and do not know my way around.”

“Monsieur Chabrier's home is well known. It is the large manor house on Rue Saint-Jermain. It faces the church of Sainte-Catherine.”

Leonardo nodded again, smiling. He remembered passing that church. Surprisingly, it was not far from his inn. “Thank you, Monsieur!” He gave a formal bow and then straightened, feeling light for the first time since he’d arrived in Paris. “Have a lovely evening!”

Unable to contain his excitement, Leonardo whistled as he walked, his steps quick but unhurried. The last of the sun’s rays had not yet disappeared over the horizon and he didn’t want to arrive too soon.

Night had truly fallen by the time he turned the corner and spied Chabrier’s estate. He slowed his steps and straightened his collar, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he could approach the end of the iron fence, a carriage pulled up and the front door opened.

Jacques and another man stepped out and Leonardo’s breath burst from his lungs. He gripped the corner post, eyes glued to his erstwhile lover. The attire was different, _Jacques_ was different, moreso than the clothes. He had an air about him and carried himself with authority. This was no courtesan, this was a young noble that belonged amidst the well-to-do, and was thriving.

His arm was locked with the other man - Chabrier, Leonardo assumed - and they were laughing, calling to someone still in the manor house. A statuesque woman stepped out, her ornate dress and delicate shoes sparkling. She was fair of face and figure, but still no match for Jacques. The Parisian fashion, with billowy trousers and hosiery, seemed ridiculous in Leonardo’s opinion, but the style did highlight Jacques’ shapely legs.

Jacques lifted the woman’s hand to his lips and kissed it. She smiled, clearly enchanted with him. Chabrier took her arm and escorted her to the carriage. They helped her in and waved her off, the carriage clattering past Leonardo.

When he turned back, Chabrier was saying something to Jacques that made him flush and smile almost shyly. He leaned close, tucked his head under the other man’s chin and allowed himself to be gathered up into something far more intimate than a fraternal embrace.

A lead ball plummeted into Leonardo’s stomach. Gaila had alluded to Chabrier being someone special to Jacques, but he had conveniently chosen to ignore that. However, the fact was hard to discount when the evidence was before his very eyes! He gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders. He had to speak to Jacques!

Before he could move to the gate, Jacques pulled back and kissed Chabrier on the lips. It was quick, but sweet and even from this distance Leonardo could see the affection Jacques held for the other man. His gut burned, freezing him in his tracks until he realized that the men had already left the yard and were making their way through the still crowded streets. He rushed to catch up, his eyes caught by Chabrier’s hand resting on the small of Jacques’ back, an altogether too-familiar gesture.

Leonardo followed, keeping them in sight, and not considering why he was doing so. He bit his lip at their antics. They were walking, laughing, obviously joking. Jacques pushed Chabrier with his shoulder and the man responded by catching him around the neck and shaking him. Leonardo recognized the burble of Jacques’ laughter, his throat closing when Chabrier slung an arm around Jacques’ shoulders. These two were comfortable and close in a way that Leonardo had not been.

His steps slowing, he could not help staring, but failed to gather the nerve to approach Jacques.

Soon enough, they entered the courtyard of another stately manor where a party seemed to be in full swing. Leonardo was stuck outside, alone, rooted to the spot, his heart heavy, watching long after Jacques and Chabrier were closed off behind a great, ornate door.

~~*~~

Leonardo slept not a wink. Instead, he spent the entire night staring at Jacques from afar, his smiles for someone else. He arose at mid-day, finally giving up on sleep. His stomach was in knots and the idea of food sounded dreadful. But he forced himself to eat and ordered a bath.

While waiting, he wrote to Cristoforo, Scotty and Gaila. He still held out a small kernel of hope that he would have good news to report in his next letter.

Bathed, groomed and fed, he dressed in his best clothes and set out for Chabrier’s house as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared beneath the horizon.

His courage faltered when he neared the fence surrounding the manor. He paused and stared up at the house. Most blinds were drawn, but he could see silhouettes flickering in the lanterns and candle light. Steeling himself, he strode to the door and knocked firmly.

The man who opened it was young and better dressed than Leonardo. He gave Leonardo a friendly smile, “Good evening, Monsieur,” he canted his head expectantly, waiting for Leonardo to state his business.

Leonardo took a deep breath, dipping his head in greeting before asking, "May I please speak to Jacques Kirk de la Rivière, Monsieur?"

The young man smiled again and motioned for Leo to come into the hall. “Can I have your name, Monsieur?” he inquired politely.

"Leonardo McCoy," he answered, following him into the grand foyer.

“Please, wait here, Monsieur McCoy," the man instructed before disappearing behind one of the doors. He was soon back and held that door open for Leonardo. “Please, come in, Monsieur.”

Leonardo stepped into the room, fully expecting Jacques to be there. He was surprised to find not Jacques, but the other man. He pulled up short. “Chabrier, I assume?”

The man looked back at him, his face dispassionate and his dark eyes unfathomable. “You assume right,” he replied, his voice betraying no emotion, either. “And who might you be?”

Leonardo was taken aback for a moment. He had thought the servant had announced him. Straightening, he ignored the churning in his gut and gave a small nod of his head. “I am Leonardo Horatio McCoy of Venice. I came to speak to Jacques, Monsieur.”

“I have your name, but that is not what I asked.” Chabrier’s voice grew darker and lowered, sending a shiver down Leonardo’s spine. “I want to know who you are and what you want with Jacques.”

Leonardo’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed, ignoring the sudden quaking of his knees. “My business with Jacques is private and none of your concern, Monsieur.”

“That is where you are mistaken, Monsieur McCoy. Everything concerning Jacques is my business. It has always been and it will always be.” Chabrier allowed a faint smirk to flicker over his lips.

Leonardo licked his lips and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “If what you claim is true, then you know everything about me. I have nothing to say to you.”

Chabrier remained outwardly calm, but the air in the room suddenly seemed to crackle with tension like before an approaching thunderstorm. “I know enough about you, McCoy. I know my Jacques put his heart into your hands and you smashed it so thoroughly that I am still picking up its shards. What I do not know is _why_ you are here. Have you not done enough damage already?”

Chabrier’s words were like daggers piercing his heart, but Leonardo deserved them. He flinched, but kept his eyes locked with Chabrier’s. His voice was steady as he admitted, “I came here to find Jacques, to try to make amends. I made a mistake, Monsieur. A grave error that I have no excuse for, save my own insecurities and fears. But I love Jacques with all that I am and hope to convince him of that.”

Chabrier did not seem to be appeased. “First you think you want him. Then you throw him out of your life. Now you decide you want him back. He is no toy; to be stuffed into a box when you get bored with him or taken out when you wish to play. Jacques is not human, but that does not mean he has no feelings, or no heart.”

“I do not toy with him!” Leonardo sagged, unable to deny Chabrier’s accusations. “His story was hard to accept… not something that I was prepared for. I know that is no excuse for my behavior and I would have come earlier, but I could not leave my uncle, not until I knew he would live.”

“You hurt him,” Chabrier accused, obviously unwilling to grant any mercy. “No excuse can undo that. He is dealing with his heartbreak and will move on. He is better off without you. If you love him as much as you claim, you will leave him alone and let him finally be happy with his own kind.”

“Leave him be? With you?” Leonardo shook his head, loath to acknowledge the truth in Chabrier’s words. “What you say is possibly true, but I am not going anywhere until I hear those words from Jacques’ mouth. If he wishes me gone and wants nothing further to do with me, then I will leave. But not before.”

Chabrier’s lips twisted in a sneer. “Humans! Always so selfish. I have known Jacques almost since his birth. Do you have any idea how long we have been together? Almost five hundred years. Do you truly believe you can take my place in his heart?”

Leonardo tried hard not to show the pain that revelation caused him, and he had to look away while he regained his composure. Still, his eyes pricked when he met Chabrier’s gaze. “That is all for Jacques to answer. But if you are as important to him as you claim, then why did he never mention you? Not once did he remark on _you,_ Monsieur.”

Chabrier gave Leonardo a pleasant smile. “Perhaps because he did not trust you? Or maybe you did not give him a chance to tell you?”

Leonardo huffed out a small, aggravated breath. “I could sit and bandy words with you all night, Monsieur, but that will not dissuade me. Only Jacques can do that.”

Chabrier gave a slight shrug. “Too bad he is not here then. So if you do not wish to talk to me, I will keep you no longer.”

“I assume you will not give him a message from me, then?”

Chabrier gave him a cutting smile. “You assume right.”

“Then, I bid you good evening. But I will return, Monsieur, and I will speak to Jacques.”

Chabrier chuckled. “You are welcome to try. Goodbye, Monsieur McCoy.”

Leonardo turned and left, back straight and chin high. But he nearly collapsed when the heavy, ornate door shut behind him. He steadied himself against the stones of the house, trying to calm his shaking knees and roiling stomach. Whatever he had said to Chabrier, no matter how strong he’d appeared, he was deeply shaken and not at all confident that he’d have a chance to speak to Jacques, not if Chabrier had his way.

~~*~~

From the top of stairs Jacques caught the sight of the door closing. He had not heard anyone arrive and wondered who had been visiting. No servants were about, which was puzzling, so he went in search of Chabrier. He found him in his study, alone.

“Good evening, mon cher.” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on Chabrier’s temple. “I heard the door and thought it might be the jeweller. Was it? Has my earring arrived?” He tried not to sound so eager, but he’d seen the gems in a few noblemen’s ears and he wanted one.

Chabrier chuckled. “So eager for a new bauble? Do you know what they say about King Henri and his fashions? His earrings, his clothes... his minions? Are you sure you want to be considered one of them?” he teased tenderly.

Jacques smiled. “I have always liked gems. Is it my fault that the latest fashion seems made for me?” He sat on the arm of Chabrier’s chair. “But what _do_ they say about Henri’s minions?” He lowered his voice, letting it rasp softly. “Most of the young men at court are painfully beautiful, so I would say the king has good taste.”

“That he does,” Chabrier agreed, draping an arm around Jacques’ waist. “The gossip has it that the minions obtained their positions and favours through the royal bed. But do not ever repeat that in public, unless you wish to get challenged. They are said to have tender pride.” He winked up at Jacques.

Jacques chuckled and dropped his cheek to rest on Chabrier’s head. “Then I will speak nothing of it, but mayhap I will test their ‘skill’. Though I doubt one of them could match a Venetian courtesan.”

Chabrier tightened his arm around Jacques’ body. “You are no longer a courtesan, Jacques. I might be repeating myself, but that was not one of your brightest ideas. Though I understand what drove you...” He sighed. “I shudder to think of you and all those... Ah, we have been through that enough already, so I will not go into that again.”

“It was not all bad,” Jacques replied, his voice drifting just as his mind did. He was getting better, he _was._ But Leonardo still consumed more of his thoughts than he’d believed possible. It did not take much to bring up memories of him. At least now there were no tears to go with them. He huffed out a small sigh and slid into Chabrier’s lap. “My one regret is that I never did get to see uncle’s face when he learned of it.”

Chabrier shifted to accommodate him more comfortably and chuckled. “Trust me, you can consider yourself avenged. I have never seen a vampyre so red-faced. You are an _enfant terrible,_ Jacques, you know that?” Chabrier smiled at him affectionately and raised his hand to push a stray lock behind his ear.

“I cannot help myself! I think it was one of Gaila’s better plans, all in all. It has turned out well enough for her.” That thought made Jacques snuggle closer. He was happy for Gaila, more than, but a part of him was jealous. Still, Scotty did not yet know the truth. He prayed it went better for her than it had for him.

“So you have ignored my question. Did my earring arrive or not? And if not, who came to visit?”

Chabrier humphed at the mention of Gaila’s name but made no comment. He was silent for a long moment, his hand absentmindedly stroking Jacques’ hip. “No, it was not the jeweler,” he sighed at last. “Someone came asking for you.”

Jacques stilled. He had known Chabrier for most of his life. There was _something_ in his voice. Giacomo blinked and looked up at him. “Someone? Who? You could have called for me. I would have come down.”

Chabrier shook his head. “I did not want you to meet him unprepared, child.” He took Jacques’ hand, his thumb stroking the smooth skin. “It seems your Venetian lover has decided he wants you back.”

Jacques froze as his mind shot off, chasing too many memories. Silky dark hair, changeable eyes, and a mouth that was heaven and hell. _Those lips._ He curled up, making himself small and curling into Chabrier’s embrace, trying desperately to keep the tangled rush of emotions from bursting out. He’d likely say something stupid. Ask how Leonardo looked.

He couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not _here._

Chabrier held him close, stroking his hair, drawing soothing circles over his back. “Jacques... mon petit... You do not have to see him if you do not want to... I can have him out of Paris--”

Jacques’ head shot up and he cried out, “No!” He was shaking. “No, not that. Please?” he begged, his voice broken. “Leonardo does not deserve Jean’s fate!”

Chabrier’s face grew dispassionate, carefully schooled. “You know me better than that, Jacques,” he said, voice as emotionless as his features. “I am not going to make your decisions for you.”

Jacques sagged, his whole body aching. He couldn’t meet Chabrier’s eyes. “Forgive me. I know you would not... you are not François.” His limbs were restless, but his heart had turned to lead. He closed his eyes and whispered, “I still love him. I doubt I could survive losing him again, so it is better if I do not see him. He will grow tired and leave soon enough.” The words cut like knives, the admission that he was not truly important to Leonardo cost him greatly, but Chabrier had been right. He was better off with his own kind.

Chabrier’s arms were still wrapped around him, holding but not restraining. “You do not have to see him if you do not want to,” the older vampyre repeated. “But if it can give you some comfort - he loves you too. Is he the one for you? I cannot say. That is for you to decide. How long is he going to love you? I have no idea. But right now he is in love and quite determined. He said he would come here every day till you agree to listen to him or personally tell him to leave you alone.”

Jacques ignored the pleased feeling that suffused him. Leonardo had let him down before. This would be no different. “Let him come then. And maybe there will be a day when I wish to listen to him. But that is not this day.”

~~*~~

Leonardo looked up at the manor house, pausing in his habitual walk. The autumn air was growing colder as the days shortened and he’d still not managed to speak to Jacques. He’d done this and gotten nowhere more times than he could count. He had managed to get sympathetic smiles from the staff, and was almost resigned to Jacques avoiding him. But there was too much riding on having this conversation and he’d be damned if he’d give up before he wore Jacques down.

Of course, all that assumed that Chabrier had even told Jacques that Leonardo had been trying to see him. He had asked and gotten a cautious nod from a young maid, so he held out hope. That gave him the courage to knock yet again. A brisk wind blew up and he wrapped his cloak more tightly against the cold.

The door opened and the by now familiar young manservant smiled in greeting and stepped aside, inviting Leonardo to enter. “I shall return shortly, Monsieur McCoy,” he said, no longer needing to ask Leonardo’s business.

Leonardo waited, well-versed with the routine. The paintings and chandelier held no interest so he just stood there, staring at the rug beneath his feet and trying to cling to some hope.

True to his word, the messenger returned quickly, but the grin on the man’s face did not resemble his usual rueful smile. “Please, follow me, Monsieur McCoy,” he invited and led Leonardo to the door of the study where he had first been received. Opening it for him, the young man smiled again and nodded.

Leonardo stepped through the door, fully expecting Chabrier to once again try to dissuade him from wasting his time. However, Leonardo’s steps faltered and then stopped as he was met not by Chabrier, but by Jacques.

He stood with his back to the fireplace, not moving or speaking as the door closed softly behind Leonardo. He was even more beautiful than Leonardo remembered, but the look on his face had never been more distant.

Now that he had what he’d wanted all along, Leonardo’s voice failed him. His throat dry and eyes drinking in Jacques’ stiff form -- still heartbreakingly gorgeous, perfection come to earth, with a sparkle at his ear lobe -- Leonardo was at a complete loss. Jacques had never been so unapproachable, never this cold.

Leonardo licked his lips, swallowed, and still his voice creaked. “Jacques?” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Forgive me. I-I... this is the moment I have been praying for, yet now that you have agreed to see me, all my carefully rehearsed words have abandoned me.”

Jacques remained unaffected. “What do you want, Leonardo? Just say it and let us be over with it.”

Leonardo lifted his head and stepped forward. “I shall try, Jacques, but it will never be over for me.” He wrung his hands together, searching for the right words. “I am grateful you have given me this chance. I want t-to apologize. For _everything._ I was wrong and stupid and so scared. But I speak the God’s honest truth when I say that I love you. I cannot stand being parted from you. I want to see you happy. I want to make you happy, but more than that, I want to take care of you.”

Jacques’ eyes grew even darker and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I can take care of myself. And if you want to make me happy, then walk out of that door and do not come back. That should not be hard. You have done it before.”

Leonardo winced and didn’t hide the hurt Jacques’ words caused. They were honest. In truth they were far less than he deserved. “I know you can take care of yourself. But it does not mean I do not want to. It does not mean I do not want to be the one holding you.” He sighed, but stepped closer. “I shall leave if you mean that, Jacques. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you do not love me anymore, that Chabrier is all you need. I shall go. But no matter where I end up, I will still love you.”

Jacques gave him a smirk that was in equal measure angry and bitter. “When did you decide all that? Last I remember you did not give a fuck if I loved you or not.”

Leonardo shoved his hair off his face, tugging at it in annoyance. “The next morning I began to... reconsider. But, then Cristoforo took a turn for the worse and I buried my fears in caring for him. During his recovery I spent countless hours thinking.” He took two steps forward, drawn by Jacques, but afraid to get too close. He didn’t want to spook him into fleeing.

“I could think of little but you. And I realized my error all too soon, but did not have the courage to leave my uncle’s side. By the time I found my backbone, you were gone.”

Leonardo’s words seemed unable to penetrate the shield of Jacques’ anger and hurt. “You called me a liar and a whore and walked out on me, slamming the door behind you! You did not come back... did not send a word... nothing! So guess what? I did my own thinking! How happy do you think my thoughts were?”

“You trusted me with the deepest part of you and I betrayed that trust. I failed you.” Leonardo straightened. “I cannot undo that deed, though I have prayed more for that exact thing than anything else in my life.” He shuffled closer, was two steps from Jacques, close enough to see everything, to know that he was still being shut out. Jacques was giving him no quarter and he deserved none.

“And I have nothing more than myself to offer as proof that I will never betray your trust again. Words are empty, Jacques, though I would swear and do anything to convince you. Just tell me what I can do.” He held his hands out, palms up, beseeching.

A shadow of some emotion flickered over Jacques’ face. He shook his head once and moved away to stand by the window with his back to Leonardo. “Humans are so fickle,” he said, gazing at the dark street outside. His voice sounded tired and distant. “They never know what they truly want. They are like children -- never content with the toy they have, always reaching for a new one.” His shoulders slumped and his whole figure spoke of defeat and weariness.

Leonardo swallowed, his arms aching, but he was unsure if his advance would be welcome. However, he could not stop himself and moved forward, wrapped himself around Jacques, offering solace. “I have never been fickle. Stupid, yes. But it was not for lack of want that I hurt you. I still do not understand everything, but I want to. I wish to know your world, to be a part of it, for as long as you will have me. I swear I will not desert you.”

The man… no, the vampyre tensed at Leonardo’s touch but did not fight him off. “What if you find that you do not like my world? Chabrier is an important part of it, you know. I am not giving him up.”

Leonardo was silent for a long time, trying to process what Jacques was saying, but being partially distracted by having his arms around him once again. The burn of jealousy flared briefly, consumed quickly by the idea that Jacques might be offering to take him back. He knew he had to say _something,_ to let him know that whatever requirement he set, Leonardo would agree. But his words were tangled and he could not stop dwelling on the feel of Jacques in his arms. “I meant what I said,” he rasped out. He swallowed again, tried to clear his throat. “I love you. There will be no other for me. Can be no other and that means that I will accept you as you are and all that entails. Chabrier included.”

Jacques chuckled, the first warm sound since Leonardo had come in. “That is what I call a noble sacrifice.” Then he sighed. “You should know that Chabrier is not the worst about my world. Being with me might be... _is_ dangerous. My first lover... died young.”

Leonardo gripped Jacques’ shoulders and turned him around. He needed to see Jacques’ eyes for this, needed to know if he was going too far. “And Jean’s death had nothing to do with you.” He whispered the words, but they were fervent, his conviction as firm as Gaila’s.

“It had everything to do with me!” the vampyre argued. “If... ” He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “How do you know about Jean?”

“I hounded Gaila until I knew everything about you and your kind. She shared the story out of love. She wants you to be happy, as do I.” He reached up and cupped Jacques’ cheek. “What your uncle did was wrong, but he is not the first to do such things. And I am no naive youth. I will not go quietly if it comes to that.”

“Quietly?” Jacques shook his head. “Leonardo, you have no idea... ” He looked at him, eyes dark and anguished, betraying his inner struggle. “I love you,” he said softly, “but not enough. If I did, I would make you leave and thus would keep you safe.”

Leonardo tightened his arms, tugging him closer, into the shelter of his arms. He kissed Jacques chastely, a quick press of their lips. It was not enough, would never be enough, but he couldn’t bear the pain and guilt in Jacques’ eyes. He vowed that he’d spend the rest of his days, erasing that anguish and keeping him safe from all hurt. “I will not leave you. You cannot make me, not now. Whatever is to be, I do not know, but I will face it with you.”

He tilted Jacques’ chin up, kissed him again, this time with more heat. “I love you. You, Jacques. I promised to be at your side for as long as you will have me and I will. I swear it.”

The vampyre did not give in at once, staying tense in Leonardo’s arms for a few moments longer as if hoping yet to muster enough will-power to push him away. But Leonardo’s kiss wilted his wish to do the right thing. He gave a shuddering sigh and let himself mould into Leonardo’s embrace.

Leonardo gasped when Jacques melted. He had not been sure he’d ever have this chance again, was _still_ unsure he deserved it... Jacques. But he’d try his damnedest to earn the privilege and keep on earning it. Resting his cheek on Jacques’ head, he luxuriated in this... He had come so close to losing this. The fear made his knees buckle and he twisted them, pressed his back to the window and sagged against it as he breathed through the panic that assailed him.

Jacques raised his hand and pressed his fingers to the pulse frantically beating in Leonardo’s throat. “It is a bit too late for getting frightened,” he murmured, teasing. “Or is it joy at having me close again? No,” he replied his own question. “If it were joy, I’d feel it here as well.” His hand slipped between their bodies to cup Leonardo through his trousers. He tutted in disapproval but his eyes were laughing.

Leonardo took a deep shuddering breath and stifled the groan that shot through him at the intimate touch. Instead, he lifted Jacques’ hand and kissed the palm. “I…” he faltered. “I merely realized just how close I came to never having this again. To losing you.” He lifted his eyes to Jacques’, hoping he could understand. “I think I was too busy with first caring for my uncle, then with finding you, to even consider the import if I had done us irreparable harm.”

The confession lightened his soul and laughter burbled up in his chest. “There is joy and more at holding you again, amante. Test me again, and see.” He teased, leering playfully.

Jacques’ eyebrow rose in an impeccable arch. “If you have something to show, please do, by all means.”

Leonardo shifted, his half-hard arousal pushing against Jacques’ thigh, as he leaned up and bit his jaw, nothing more than a light nibble, but how he’d missed the taste of Jacques’ skin! He moaned and pressed closer, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing down the vampyre’s throat.

“Hey!” Jacques protested, laughing and trying to push Leonardo away. “When I say ‘show’, it means I want to _see_ , not feel!”

“You do not like the way it feels?” Leonardo teased, his voice growing husky. “Mayhap there is too much fabric separating us?” He refused to pull away completely, he had not tasted Jacques for months and was like a man starved.

Jacques laughed again. “Yes, too much fabric. If I cannot see you, how do I know you have not lost all your... charm?” He slipped out of Leonardo’s arms and took a couple of steps away. The backs of his knees hit the seat of a chair and he dropped down into it, making himself comfortable.

Leonardo’s eyes widened and he flushed as the realization of what Jacques wanted sunk in. He was fully hard just that quick. He gazed at the vampyre for an instant, then dropped his eyes as his hand moved to the laces of his trousers. Jacques had seen him completely naked numerous times, but this was both more exposed and intimate. They could be walked in on at any time. A shiver ran down his spine as he tugged swiftly on the bow.

Jacques watched Leonardo’s fingers, a wicked grin curving his lips. But his eyes were hungry and dark, the blue rings of his irises almost completely consumed by the black of the pupils.

Leonardo fumbled with the tie, but it finally came free. Warmth and arousal suffused his skin with blood. He widened his stance and swallowed, then pushed his trousers open, his cock jutting free. He hissed in relief and lust as cool air swirled around the head. “I had no idea a prick was called a charm in France,” he murmured and finally lifted his eyes to meet Jacques’ as he wrapped his hand around himself. “Am I intact?”

Jacques smirked at him. “I cannot see from here. Come closer.”

He moaned then, unable to stop. No one had ever looked at him as Jacques did. Somehow being in this position was more arousing than he could have imagined. A bright glow flared over his skin, he felt sweat bead at the base of his spine, and yet, he couldn’t stop. Felt compelled to follow Jacques’ commands.

He closed the distance between them, limbs twitching, as he tried to stay still, one hand still wrapped around his cock. He’d seemingly forgotten that as he moved.

Jacques opened his knees and reached out to grab a fistful of Leonardo’s doublet, pulling him to stand between them. Leonardo’s cock was just an inch away from his lips. Jacques looked up, smirking. “It seems intact.” He leaned a bit closer, his tongue darting out to give a quick lick to the crown. “And it feels intact, too. But I will have to give it a thorough check to be entirely sure.”

A full body shudder ran through Leonardo, his ass clenching to keep from shoving forward. His eyes slammed shut and he whimpered, nothing more coherent than swearing bursting from his lips. “Fuck!”

Jacques laughed. “If that is a request, Leonardo, you should add ‘please’.”

That was more teasing than any man could take and Leonardo bent forward, pressed his knee into the chair and surged forward, chests meeting, as he seized the vampyre’s lips.

Jacques tilted his head and rested it against the high back of the chair. His hand let go of Leonardo’s doublet and flew up to curl around his neck, while his other hand found Leonardo’s hot flesh and stroked it gently.

Leonardo arched and bucked and crawled closer, Jacques swallowing his moans as he writhed. His lungs were near bursting and black spots danced before his eyes before he broke the kiss. Panting, he gulped air hungrily. “Fuck me. _Please,_ ” he begged.

Jacques inhaled sharply, eyes closing for a moment. He took a deep steadying breath and looked up at Leonardo, shaking his head. “No. If you want me, you will have to do the fucking.”

His lips parted and he wanted to argue, almost did, before his brain caught up to his mouth. “But why? We have done that and I love taking you, feeling you give yourself to me, but I want to give you the same... all of me.”

Jacques drew another deep breath, sighing. “You spoke to Gaila... So you should know what she is. Did she tell you?”

Leonardo whined, did not want to talk, but he nodded, his hands fiddling with the clasps on Jacques’ clothes. “She told me, but we did not spend much time talking about her.”

Jacques caught Leonardo’s hands, stilling them. “She is a changeling, Leonardo. It means she used to be a human, but then she met a vampyre who changed her into what she is now. _Any_ human can be changed. If any of my bodily fluids -- be it blood or sperm -- mixes with your blood, you will be changed. I cannot take that risk.” He looked up into Leonardo’s face earnestly. “This is part of what you agreed to accept. But if you feel it is more than you bargained for, I will not take you up on your word.”

Leonardo sagged and leaned his weight on the back of the chair. “I can comply with whatever you ask of me, but I do not see the problem. You are _vampyre_ and if you make me like you, how is that a risk?”

“No!” Jacques’ reply was instant and determined. “You are blindly agreeing to something of which you do not have the vaguest idea. You do not know what it means to be a changeling... what sacrifices you will have to make. And do not tell me you will do anything for me!” he warned before Leonardo could even start to protest. “You would hate me when you fully realized what you had lost. You can have me on my terms. If you find them too much, I shall let you go and will not think less of you.”

That stung, and Leonardo pulled away, tucking his now quiescent cock into his pants as he did. “I am not here for a roll in the hay, or anything even remotely trivial. I may not know any of those things, but I had hoped that you would teach me, that I was something more than a trifle.” He looked out the window and shook his head. “I love you, all of you, every part of you. I do not fear you or what you are and I _will_ say that I will do anything for you, because it is the truth!” he finished, his voice rising.

Jacques sighed. “Are you now going to accuse me of trying to swap you for a wealthy patron and to bang the door shut on me? The French call it ‘déjà vu’.” He gave Leonardo a crooked smile.

Leonardo dropped into the chair facing him and shook his head. “I will never repeat such things again, but I am not a child. I do not like being told that I cannot make my own choices,” he admitted. “Like it or not, you are stuck with my stubborn self. I will drop this... for now. But we are not done.”

Jacques chuckled. “You _are_ a child, Leonardo. A willful, headstrong child,” he teased affectionately.

Leonardo smiled at him, blushing furiously. He shook his head and standing, took Jacques’ hand to tug him up. “Can a child do this?” He kissed him then, threw all of himself into it, one hand tangling in Jacques’ silky hair, the other splayed wide on his back to hold him in place.

Jacques returned the kiss wholeheartedly, but when they finally broke apart, he grinned archly. “To me, anyone younger than four hundred years is a child. So I think I am going to ply you with sweets and then put you to bed.”

“By all means, put me to bed,” Leonardo rasped, his voice brushing over Jacques’ ear. “Want to love you with all of me… want to worship you as you deserve.”

Jacques chuckled. “I guess you truly missed me.”

“Like my right hand,” Leonardo answered truthfully.

Jacques took said hand and tugged him out of the room through another door that opened onto a wooden staircase. It was narrow, and he had to let go of Leonardo as he started climbing it. They reached the landing on the second floor with a single door. Jacques opened it and led Leonardo inside. Leonardo glanced around and gave a satisfied chuckle when he saw that they were in a bedroom, right in front of a large, four-poster bed.

Heat flared as he looked at the bed and the vampyre, his body remembering too well what they were going to do. Tugging Jacques closer, he kissed his neck, whispering, “So I can undress you now?”

Jacques chuckled softly. “I thought _I_ was supposed to put _you_ to bed.” However, he made no attempt to move out of Leonardo’s arms and tilted his head, baring his throat for Leonardo’s lips.

Humbled by the offering, Leonardo sucked on the pale skin, not hard enough to mar the flesh but short and sharp, before moving on. His hands were busy, making short work of Jacques’ doublet and shirt. Once he had him bare above the waist, he trailed kisses down the slim torso, chanting ‘Mine’ in a soft undertone.

Jacques chuckled breathlessly at the quiet possessive rumble and brought his hands up to tangle them in Leonardo’s hair. The muscles of his stomach tensed and twitched under Leonardo’s lips, his skin smooth and cool.

Leonardo didn’t know what to do with his hands, he wanted to touch, tease, and mark Jacques all over, wanted to feel everything to convince himself that this was real, that he hadn’t lost this. He mapped Jacques’ back with gentle fingers, counting each vertebra as he mouthed one nipple, sucking and tugging on it.

Jacques gave a moan of approval and arched his spine, tossing his head back, his long hair brushing Leonardo’s hands. “Your lips... they are so hot...” he murmured. “You are branding me with your kisses.”

Leonardo shuddered, moaning around the nub in his mouth. Jacques’ voice, his approval -- all made his pulse race, his whole body thrumming in anticipation. He pulled off Jacques’ chest with a soft pop, licked his lips and met his eyes. “I want the world to know that you are mine. My beautiful Jacques.” He kept their eyes locked and slid to his knees, his hands already working at Jacques’ trousers. “Mine,” he repeated against cool skin, lips lingering at the navel, the cut of his abdomen, sucking on a jutting hip bone.

Jacques did not say anything. He just smiled, gazing down at Leonardo with wide dark eyes. Leonardo could feel Jacques was aroused, but he did not try to spur him, seemingly content to let Leonardo set the pace of their lovemaking.

Leonardo stripped Jacques’ trousers down to his ankles, palms skimming his thighs. He had to release him to tug off his boots and kick off the trousers. Once he was completely bare, Leonardo rocked back and sat on his heels, eyes feasting on the sight. Eager for more, he had to clasp his hands in his lap to keep from touching.

Jacques’ lips twitched. “Am I intact?” he inquired. “Everything as you remember it?”

Jacques interrupted his contemplation and Leonardo’s lips quirked upward. “As perfect as ever.” He reached out and wrapped his hands around Jacques’ hips, fingers splayed over the burgeoning swell of his buttocks. He was caught there for a moment, everything still, expectant. But Leonardo could only be so patient. He surged forward and sucked the head of the vampyre’s cock into his mouth.

Jacques gasped, grasping Leonardo’s shoulders for support. “You are still... fully dressed,” he pointed out, his breath hitching a little. “Why?”

Leonardo’s only answer was to pull him closer and swallow down more of his cock. He hummed wickedly, groin tightening and thighs tensing as his own cock ached to be touched.

Jacques’ fingers dug into his shoulders, and by the tensing of his muscles Leonardo could tell Jacques was trying to keep his hips from rocking forward.

He pulled off, lapping at the slit before turning hooded eyes up to Jacques. “Use me, my throat, you know you want to,” he commanded, his voice roughened, deep. He didn’t look away as he swallowed once again.

Jacques chuckled, a low dusky sound. “Have you been practicing then?” he teased. “That you are so sure you can handle me?”

Leonardo shook his head, but he took the cock deeper still. He swallowed again and again, his throat working on the hard length as he fought not to gag. He wanted this. More than he’d believed possible. He was breathing heavily through his nose, his fingers pressing hard into Jacques’ ass.

Jacques’ hand shifted to Leonardo’s head, simply resting there. He started to rock his hips in little measured thrusts, as if testing how much Leonardo could take.

Leonardo swallowed, tried to ignore the spit oozing out his lips, dribbling down his chin. He had never done such a thing, never even wanted to; and now his cock was aching, rock hard, and he moaned with each push-pull of Jacques’ cock. He whimpered, ‘More,’ around Jacques’ cock, gulping and gasping as fire lanced through him.

He heard another of the vampyre’s dark chuckles. “You do like it, Bones, do you not?” And Jacques’ hand slid down to curl around Leonardo’s neck, pushing him forward slightly to meet his thrusts that were gradually growing more insistent.

Leonardo had never dreamed that this could be so arousing. He was on his knees, held fast while Giacomo fucked his throat. He shuddered again, opened to the welcome invasion, whimpering and moaning at being used so.  
Leonardo heard Jacques’ quick ragged breaths and was surprised to realize his lover was close to climax. He felt oddly proud at the thought that he had been able to do that to him, to bring him to the brink. Suddenly Jacques gave a harsh groan and grabbed a fistful of Leonardo’s hair, pulling him off his cock.

Leonardo winced at the pain and whimpered. But before he could voice a complaint, Jacques was shuddering, his hips jerking, as his cock erupted, and thick, viscous seed splattered Leonardo’s cheeks, lips and mouth, dripping down his chin. He watched, mouth open, as Jacques climaxed, another droplet of come landing on his tongue.

He could not help groaning at the sight of Giacomo, skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, a hand still tangled in his hair. It was all too much, far and away the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He swallowed, whimpering as his throat twinged, and his cock filled near to bursting.

Jacques grabbed the footboard to steady himself, loosening his iron grip on Leonardo’s hair, but not releasing it completely. He took several long breaths before opening his eyes. Leonardo flushed as Jacques’ dazed expression turned dark, hungry. The vampyre untangled his fingers and reached out, smearing his seed into Leonardo’s skin. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he said, his voice soft, breathless, and amazed.

He leaned down and pulled Leonardo up by the arm, steadying him when Leonardo swayed a little. Wrapping his arms around his body, Jacques gave him a tender, unhurried kiss, licking his own seed from Leonardo’s lips. “Do you want some water?” he murmured. “Or maybe wine?”

Leonardo was stunned, torn between hot arousal searing through him and warmth suffusing him that had nothing to do with arousal. He felt Jacques’ tongue on him, knew what he was doing, and another shiver ran through him. “Please,” he croaked out, but his mind was crying out, _“Gods, yes! More! Now!”_

Jacques pulled away to look at him and his lips quirked as if he could hear Leonardo’s thoughts. Then he moved to the table to pour Leonardo a glass of water. “Come on, strip already, Leonardo,” he urged, his voice tinged with amusement. “We do not want your clothes rumpled and soiled, do we?”

Leonardo’s hands shook, but he stripped as quickly as he could, though he stumbled when he pushed his trousers down before removing his boots. He took the offered water and drained the glass, sighing as it soothed his throat. He had no words and simply let his eyes tell the full story of his desire and need, but most of all of the overwhelming emotion he felt for the man before him.

He touched his thumb to Jacques’ bottom lip, slid it along the rough patch where he’d bitten it. “Is it time to take me to bed?” he asked, teasing as best he could with his whole being fixated on his lover.

“High time,” Jacques agreed, grinning. He stepped in, his hands stroking up and down Leonardo’s flanks and his hard -- _hard_ \-- length nudging Leonardo’s. “As it happens, I have already marked you as mine. Do you want to put your claim on me now?” His grin turned positively lecherous.

Leonardo gasped, suddenly unable to think, as pure want subsumed him. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jacques, burying his face in the slightly sweaty golden waves. “I want to fuck you so hard… leave finger marks on you, fill you full with my seed, ruin you for all others. You are mine,” he growled.

“You want me to feel you in my bones, hm?” Jacques purred into Leonardo’s ear, his hands slipping around Leonardo’s hips and squeezing his arse. “Then do your best… or your worst.”

The vampyre’s voice was pure sin, unadulterated sex, sending fire straight to his groin. He bucked up, aligned their shafts and ground down. “Tell me you have oil, salve, anything!” he gasped out, his voice raw, abraded and filled with so much need that he should have been embarrassed. But he could not be, not about this. Not with Jacques.

Jacques gave a breathless laugh. “I have oil... salve, anything... In abundance.” He gave Leonardo a quick kiss before he reluctantly let go of him and moved to open the cabinet by the washstand. Taking a small jar from it, he tossed it to Leonardo and climbed on the bed.

Leonardo caught the jar easily and opened it, sniffing the contents. His guts tightened in anticipation. “On your back, please?”

“Face to face, so that you could watch me, eh?” Jacques teased as he complied and flopped down, spreading his legs, wanton and unabashed.

“I missed you,” Leonardo shrugged in reply. He crawled up Jacques’ body, leaning down to kiss him while his fingers spread the salve liberally. He was rushing things, but he could think of little but being buried in Jacques’ tight heat.

The vampyre returned the kiss with passion but remained relaxed under Leonardo’s touch. Only his hands moved, caressing Leonardo’s arms, shoulders and chest.

After gathering more salve from the jar, Leonardo slicked his cock and finally retreated from Jacques’ lips. The cool air sent a little shiver over his chest as he spread Jacques’ cheeks, glancing briefly at the puckered entrance. His cock strained toward it, leading the way, and he pressed forward until he was past the fluttering muscle. Panting, he stilled. The very room pulsed with tension, but he could hear nothing over the thundering of his heart.

Jacques groaned, but it did not sound like pain. His body adjusted and accepted the intrusion. He looked up at Leonardo from under his lashes, his lips quirked. “Ruin me for all others, eh? Are you sure you can?”

Leonardo thrust forward, his voice a low growl, “I can damn well try! There will be no other for _me,_ so it is my only hope.”

Jacques’ eyes slipped closed but the smile lingered on his lips. His knees squeezed Leonardo’s hips in what could be silent encouragement... or challenge.

Leonardo shifted forward, pressing his thighs against the back of Jacques’, opening and stilling him. “Brat!” he grinned at him before swiveling his hips and giving a few short, sharp thrusts.

“I am...” Jacques’ breath caught and he gripped Leonardo’s arms. “I am five hundred years older than you. So who is the brat here?”

“If... you... are still... capable,” Leonardo groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust, “of speech... then I... am not... doing... what... I... intend.” His own heart was racing, thrilled by the little gasps coming from Jacques’ parted lips. He shifted again and pressed down and in, as far as he could go, abdomen trapping Jacques’ cock, as he kissed him, stole his breaths, keeping them for his own.

Jacques moaned into the kiss and squirmed, pulling his legs up to wrap them around Leonardo’s waist. His hard length pulsed between their bodies, and Jacques squirmed again, trying to get more friction, his heels pressing into the small of Leonardo’s back.

This was too perfect and too much for Leonardo. He’d been aching for want of Jacques, dreaming of him, longing for him, and now that he had him, his body’s long-denied need was roaring through him, driving him forward, harder, incessantly, until his own release was burning in his gut, hot and wild. He thrust with abandon, chasing his climax, while purposefully avoiding Jacques’.

Jacques’ fingers dug into Leonardo’s arms, his eyes glinting from under his lashes. “Bastard!” he breathed, grinning.

Leonardo huffed out a breathless laugh, his whole body sparking. “My parents were married,” he shot back. His climax was upon him but he fought it and kept pounding into Jacques’ clenching body, nearly keening. He shook his head. “Not yet! Do not come!” he begged before his orgasm blew him apart. He stilled and cried out, hips stuttering twice more, as color, warmth and life burst behind his eyelids.

Jacques gave a groan of frustration, his legs slipping down to the mattress. “Bastard!” he repeated with feeling.

Leonardo took a shuddery breath and leaned down to kiss him, his cock still buried in the sweetest heat. “I will take care of you, but I want to see you, taste you, swallow you whole.” He kissed Jacques’ protest away. “I know I cannot have everything I want, but I can watch and breathe with you as you climax.”

He leaned all his weight on one arm, reaching down as he carefully pulled out, his fingers taking his cock’s place. “Can you come just from this?” He stroked and twisted his fingers, teasing the nubby bundle, his lips brushing along Jacques’ neck. “I love you.”

Jacques groaned again. “And here I was thinking you were making amends and would do what _I_ wanted.” He glared up at Leonardo. “Why would I wish to... come from that... instead of the... real thing?” He writhed, trying to get away from Leonardo’s fingers.  
“What do you want?” Leonardo swallowed past the lump in his throat. Jacques was so gorgeous this way, pinned beneath him, eyes hot. “Though if it is _only_ the real thing, you will have to wait... a bit.” Not as long as he’d expect though. He was still half-hard, his blood pulsing with arousal, little lethargy tugging at him. Only Jacques could do this to him, and his eyes raked down the perfect body. He licked his lips when he saw Jacques’ arousal, hard and near purple.

Not waiting for Jacques’ answer, he slithered down his body, giving into the desire to taste him again.

Suddenly, Jacques sat up, pushing Leonardo away. “I think you forget something, Leonardo. I am not a courtesan anymore.”

The push had more force than Leonardo had expected and he toppled to his side, mouth agape. He laid there for a moment, blinking. “I know that you are not courtesan. You are mine. My lover, my heart, my soul.” His brows creased as he looked at Jacques, his mind awhirl. What had he done wrong?

“Then you treat your lover no better than a courtesan. It is all about what _you_ want, isn’t it? I have had enough of that in Venice. No more, thank you.” Jacques’ face was closed, dispassionate, but the line of his lips looked bitter.

Was that what he was doing? Being selfish? Leonardo shook his head, reached for Jacques, but hastily withdrew his hand. Swallowing thickly, he started, “B-but,” then stopped as his voice creaked. Whether he had intended it or not, he had hurt his lover. Even his addled brain could see that.

Moving to his knees, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the bedsheets, he offered an apology. “I never meant to hurt you, treat you like that. I simply want to share everything with you, keep every little thing you do to myself. I want to see how you move, listen to the sounds you make, taste you.”

He ducked his head as tears pricked and the words grew hard to say. “I love you as I have never loved another and I think that love has made me forget that you are more than _mine._ That you have needs, too. I am sorry, beloved.” Fear closed his throat and the last word came out little more than a whisper. What would he do if Jacques had had enough of him, this time?

Jacques looked at Leonardo silently, his eyes studying his face. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“Jacques, are you in?”

 _Chabrier._ Jacques’ eyes darted to the door and then back to Leonardo.

Leonardo recognized that voice, jealousy and over-arching fear gripping him. Why now? Why at this exact moment did that blasted vampyre have to make himself known? “Jacques, please?” he begged, his voice small. “Please? I am sorry! I cannot lose you!” His whole body was shaking yet he was rooted to the spot, once again waiting for the axe to fall.

Jacques shook his head, an exasperated look crossing his face. He turned to the door and called out in a language Leonardo could not understand. There was a brief pause, then Chabrier laughed and replied in the same tongue. Then there was silence.

Jacques looked back at Leonardo and raised an eyebrow. “Well? You were saying...?”

Leonardo gaped at the door and then blinked back at Jacques, nodding slowly. He had no idea what had happened, but felt scraped raw and off center. “W-what can I do?”

Jacques shook his head again but offered a smile. “Bones. I might be yours. But I am not a toy that can be owned. I have feelings and needs which might not always concur with yours. I can be selfish... and hard to bear... and can lose my temper if I do not immediately get what I want.” His smile became self-conscious, but only for a moment. “If you can keep that in mind... and can live with that... then we have a chance.”

Leonardo glanced suspiciously at the door, frowning at it before turning back to Jacques. He scooted forward, still on his knees and still so unsure, but he needed to convince Jacques and himself that this was worth fighting for. “If you will have me, I will take you anyway I can get. I feel... awkward and ungainly most of the time and have a biting tongue, so I think I can bear your temper, if you can tame mine.”

His smile lit up and he leaned further forward, brushing his lips against Jacques’ temple. “You are no toy to me. You are the most precious thing I have ever held. I beg for your understanding of just how deeply you affect me, how overwhelming it is to know that I can make your pulse speed, that I can make you cry out. I would do anything for you.”

Leonardo’s heart hammered in his throat as he rested there, waiting, his arms loosely circling Jacques’ waist, his cheek resting on Jacques’, just breathing him in.

“Anything?” the vampyre gave a soft chuckle. “Good. Then finish what you started.”

The sound of Jacques’ laughter eased the ache in Leonardo’s gut. He grinned and pulled back, only to lean in again and kiss him. It was tender at first but quickly escalated. There had always been something about Jacques that intrigued him, caught his eye, his interest and now, sprawled, half-sitting, half-lying on him, the answer came to Leonardo. They fit… perfectly. As though made together and snapped apart. Each notch in Leo’s heart was filled by an honest smile from Jacques.

Leonardo began laughing, bright and delighted. “I love you!” burst from him and he dropped to the bed, tugging Jacques over him.

The vampyre went willingly, propping himself on his elbows, hovering over Leonardo. He framed his face with his hands, his thumbs nudging Leonardo’s chin up. “You know you will have to prove that, do you not?” he murmured before he dipped his head and kissed Leonardo’s mouth, thoroughly, mercilessly.

Leonardo wrapped his arms around Jacques, holding him tightly. He tangled their legs together, his breath quickly growing short. Jacques had such power over him and Leonardo gave into it willingly, eagerly. He no longer worried or cared about the world out there. All that mattered was here in his arms and he would show Jacques that until he believed him and far past.

When his lungs were screaming for air, he tilted his head back and gazed at his lover from under heavy lids. “If I cannot taste you and you will not take me, how can I best serve you?” he asked, his voice growing sultry.

Jacques nuzzled Leonardo’s neck, sucking gently on the pulse point. “I do not want you to serve me,” he murmured, his breath washing over Leonardo’s damp skin. “I want you to make love to me.” He raised his head to look down at him, eyes dark and tender.

“Every time I touch you, I am loving you. I can do nothing less,” Leonardo answered, heart stuttering helplessly as Jacques’ words settled into the cracks in his heart, sealing them, healing him. The smile he gave his vampyre was a bit crooked and self-conscious. “I have no idea what I have done to deserve you, but I refuse to take my fortune for granted.”

“Oh, shut up, Bones. Just get to business already.” Jacques was smirking, but the look in his eyes did not change, perhaps only the tenderness was now slightly tinged with amusement.

Leonardo chuckled and flipped them, his hand fumbling and finding the pot of salve. “Your wish is my command, my beauty.” He nuzzled Jacques’ neck, nipping lightly, and then finally gave in and suckled hard and firmly, drawing a mark high on his neck where no collar could conceal it.

Jacques tossed his head, suddenly laughing. “Oh! Is that a souvenir for Chabrier?” he teased.

Growling, his eyes sparking, Leonardo nodded. “What did you tell him? That made him laugh?” His smile faded slightly and he kissed the corner of Jacques’ lush mouth. “I am jealous, though I tell myself not to be. But he told me how long you had been together, told me that I am but a brief flash, to be quickly forgotten...”

Jacques laughed again, clearly enjoying Leonardo’s show of possessiveness. “I told him that he had been right all along, that I love you and want to keep you... And that I am too busy to talk to him.” His eyes danced with mirth. “If he really told you all those things, then he must have been testing you. He has been my guardian all my life. He cares for me.”

Leonardo shifted, pressing Jacques down into the mattress, but he nodded. “I-I admit that I am relieved you have such a protector. Gaila, while formidable, is not as fearsome, though she would have my head if I dared to hurt you.” He lifted one eyebrow, asking, “Did I pass the test?”

Jacques smirked up at him. “You are here, are you not?” Then he tugged on Leonardo’s hair. “By the gods, you do like to talk!” Leaning up, he kissed him, trying to get them back on track.

Jacques’ reactions and his obvious happiness diminished Leonardo’s fears. He smirked, biting his lip to keep from laughing aloud. He was gathering salve with two fingers while he lifted his eyebrows and gazed at his lover. “Eager, are we? Whatever shall I do to fix that?” He chose that moment to press the salve into Jacques, first one finger, then two.

Jacques bucked. “Eager?” he huffed. “Bloody right! You cheated me out of a climax, remember?”

“Cheated?” Leonardo twisted his fingers, pulling out for more salve, as his lips met Jacques’. He nipped at them, shaking his head. “I only wanted to see you, share your pleasure while I am not so lost in mine.” He found the nubby flesh and stroked it, his lips curving upward. “Or we can ceaselessly rut away, no more sense than animals.”

Jacques gasped and shuddered. “What... what is wrong with sharing an orgasm? You did not complain in Venice...”

“I had no idea what I had in Venice, either. And I am still half afraid that I am dreaming, that this is not real, that I died at some highwayman’s hand and have been granted heaven.” As he slicked his cock, he pressed his lips to Jacques’ ear and murmured softly, “I want to share everything with you and make you fall apart beneath me, so that time will still come.” Then he pressed home.

Jacques exhaled sharply, but it sounded like relief, not discomfort. Obviously, fearing that Leonardo would start talking again, he pulled his head down and sealed his mouth with a kiss, rocking his hips in encouragement.

Leonardo groaned into Jacques’ mouth, his hips snapping forward until he was fully seated. His heart pounding and eyes wide open, he pulled out slowly, teasingly, then thrust back in sharply. He watched his lover intently, drinking in every twitch and little sound.

Jacques pulled his legs up, opening himself for Leonardo even more. His eyes were half-closed and unfocused, but his lips were smiling.

Leonardo responded to that smile, to the oh-so-willing body, to everything about Jacques. He could not help himself and did not try. But this time, he would see to his lover’s pleasure, would try to stave off his own for long enough to revel in Jacques’ blissed out expression. With that thought in mind, he kept swiveling his hips, long thrusts in and slow, dragging pulls out. Only when Jacques cried out did Leonardo target that single spot, but he kept a measured pace, took his time exploring his lover’s body.

Jacques accepted Leonardo’s pace, followed his lead in their dance, unrestrained sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips. He brought his arms up to grip the pillow under his head as he arched his spine, meeting Leonardo’s thrust as best he could.

Another climax threatened sooner than seemed possible, but Leonardo fought it back, keeping the haze of pleasure at bay. He was breathless and sweat trickled down his back, but he kept the steady pace, reaching for Jacques’ erection, even as Jacques’ arching body clutched him tighter, stealing his resolve for a moment. He gripped Jacques, wavering and caught, his thrusts speeding up seemingly against his will.

“Harder... Harder now!” Jacques demanded, eyes feverish with need.

There was no chance that Leonardo would slow or do anything but what his lover asked. He braced himself, his arm trembling, but he thrust in hard and deep, his fist slipping slickly over Jacques’ cock, their rhythm erratic as Leonardo’s body coiled tighter.

“Yes!” Jacques cried out, pushing himself down onto Leonardo’s cock. He froze, taut as a bow string, and cried out again, shuddering, the evidence of his pleasure spilling over Leonardo’s fist.

Leonardo followed him over the edge, unable to stop the onslaught of sensations as Jacques’ sheath clenched and spasmed around him. It was too perfect, too much, and Leonardo’s hips stuttered before he stilled, eyes slamming shut against his will, mouth open on a soundless cry.

Jacques went absolutely boneless beneath him. With a groan, he brought his arms down and draped them loosely around Leonardo’s body, his heart thumping against Leonardo’s chest.

Leonardo barely had the sense to fall to his elbow, but he hung there, head limp and lolling, his lips dragging against Jacques’ skin. “You unhinge me, amante,” he murmured.

“ ‘s not a bad thing, hm?” Jacques slurred, smirking up at him drowsily.

“Could never be,” Leonardo replied, voice soft and filled with adoration. He swiped his hand on the bedsheets and wriggled to the side, reluctant to leave his lover’s body. Sighing with regret as he did, he shifted and tucked Jacques up in his arms, their limbs fitting together as though from long practice.

The vampyre hummed, content and relaxed in Leonardo’s arms. “Rest a while,” he murmured, and the smile Leonardo heard in his voice was positively wicked. “I am not done with you yet.”

Despite the swirl of emotions and all the things he still wanted to say, sleep tugged at him and Leonardo dozed, sleeping better than he ever had. With Jacques in his arms, his world was right and orderly, as it should be, and Leonardo was not going to dwell on what came next.

The End


	4. Epilogue

_Venice, Italy, 1796_

Stepping through the darkened, room, Leonardo easily made his way around the covered furniture, leaving barely more than faint footprints in the dust as he exited onto the balcony. He breathed deeply, taking in the familiar smells, the sounds muted by the heavy fog blanketing Venice.

He leaned heavily on the railing, the city’s views unparallelled as he took in the teasing glimpses of jeweled lights reflected in the lagoon, or in a canal as the fog bank rolled and moved like a slithering snake, its course aimless and erratic.

It was fitting that he returned to weather that was as dreary as his mood. The damp air, redolent with mold and acrid with decay consoled him in a way that the dry desert and sand could not. Too many memories, too much loss, and it was all too fresh, his grief still raw and aching.

He wrapped his arms about himself and let out a soft breath. Venice would forever be home, would define him, but Venice was nearly as changed as he was. He had spent too many nights grieving here, his heart aching as he first lost his mother, then his uncle. He could not be at Claudio’s side and grieved his cousin’s passing from afar, just as Jocelina’s last days were lost to him.

That was the worst of the changes wrought on him. He had gained so much, but he’d lost his family, had had to leave them, never to return, though it had driven a stake through his heart. Claudio’s death still weighed heavily on his soul. And to this day he carried his cousin’s letters and held to his vow to watch over his heirs. They’d forged a tight bond, estranged brothers that united to care for Cristoforo and learned to trust and love each other along the way.

Leonardo had been gone too long this time. Caught up in the wonders of the wide world and Nyota’s summons, he’d nearly missed an entire generation in the Picca line. Leonardo’s throat closed to hold back a soft cry. He should not mourn Nyota this way. She’d demanded that he celebrate life, that he live and be happy, but Leonardo had never been good at letting go, had always held on too tightly. So here he was, back in Venice, heartsick and grieving with war on the horizon. He ducked his head and offered up a silent prayer that Jacques was safe and would arrive soon.

With dawn threatening, Leonardo crawled into bed, hoping sleep would soothe the ache in his soul.

~~*~~

Jacques stepped into the dark house and locked the door behind him. In spite of the ringing silence inside, he knew at once that Leonardo was already here. He could sense his presence, could almost hear his heart beat. Smiling to himself, he made his way to the bedroom upstairs, certain that he would find Leonardo there, with the dawn almost upon them.

Despite sleep’s drugging influence, Leonardo instantly felt him, knew the moment Jacques was near. He was keenly attuned to his lover... his mate. He sent out a plaintive call uncaring that he was so needy. All he wanted was Jacques’ arms around him, then all would be right once again.

Quickening his pace, Jacques crossed the room and, perching on the edge of the bed, pulled Leonardo to him. “Bones,” he murmured before capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. “I missed you so badly! How are you?” He caressed Leonardo’s cheek tenderly.

Leonardo practically crawled into Jacques’ arms, opened fully and completely, his breath shuddering in his chest as he stifled a sob. Clinging to Jacques, he shook his head, couldn’t find the words, not in that moment, not when Jacques was here, holding him, his mere presence a soothing balm on Leonardo’s frayed soul.

Stilling, Leonardo buried his head in Jacques’ neck. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm his racing heart, but his hands scrabbled against the fine coat Jacques wore, pulling him closer, need making him frantic.

Jacques tightened his hold on his lover, frowning in worry. “Bones? What is it? Tell me.”

Leonardo was unsure if he wanted to say it aloud, but he could feel Jacques' concern. "I will be well... now that you are here." He tugged Jacques down, forced his lover's taut form to cover his own. His arms ached with memory of Nyota's frail form, of holding her as her life ebbed and faded away. He needed Jacques in his arms, needed to erase that last memory.

Jacques braced himself on his elbows, looking down into Leonardo’s eyes. “Oh, mon coeur,” he sighed. “She has passed away, hasn’t she? I am so sorry.” He rained small, gentle kisses over Leonardo’s face.

As the dam broke Leonardo nodded and gasped as the tears fell, the hand not fisted in Jacques' clothes gripping his bicep tightly as he let go and vented his grief, once again where he belonged, safe in Jacques' arms.

Jacques held him through it, soothing him with quiet words and kisses. “Oh, Leonardo... I tried to warn you.” He pressed their cheeks together, his lips near Leonardo’s ear. “But you never listen... You are always too generous with your heart, Bones.”

Sniffling, he tried to argue. He did not feel generous, not with the ghosts of the past haunting him. He was greedy and spoiled, had more than he deserved right here holding him and yet, he'd wanted even more. "I-I do not deserve you, amato," he finally wheezed as the tears abated.

Jacques sighed softly, his lips brushing soft caresses over Leonard’s tear-stained cheeks. “Why would you think that?”

Even with Jacques here, Leonardo was caught up in reliving the painful missteps he’d made, seemingly at every turn. “Nuri,” he breathed out, his greatest failure.

He felt Jacques freeze and despised himself all over again. He’d been too arrogant, overly confident as only the young can be, and deep scars in both their souls were the price of that hubris.

“Shhh,” Jacques breathed, still supportive despite everything.

Leonardo could not have imagined what awaited him beyond Italy and France. The world was wide and filled with such knowledge! He could not be persuaded that his thirst for knowledge was obsessive, that traveling to Persia, the seat of learning, to be apprenticed to the master healer, Farzin, was risky.

He did not listen, thought he was wise because he’d been offered an apprenticeship, and even asked Jacques to let him go for a few years.

 _’Let him go.’_ If he had known what he was asking, what those few years of learning would cost...

His heart clenched painfully. Farzin had been a gifted, insightful healer, and Leonardo an apt pupil, ultimately surpassing his mentor. He’d learned things unheard of in all of Europe, saved many lives, but the personal cost had been far too dear. No matter how bright and beautiful Farzin’s son had been, Leonardo had betrayed his mate. The repercussions still reverberated within him and ultimately changed them both irrevocably.

“What if,” Leonardo stuttered.

Jacques stopped him with a gentle kiss, his lashes fluttering closed as his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest.

“I waited, Bones, and there is no what if, not now, not after everything. You know this, as you know me.”

But Jacques _had_ believed he’d waited in vain. Too many years had passed and he fled to Austria, to Chabrier, and the sheltering arms of the other Elders. Jacques had been welcomed back and forgiven all -- the centuries of straying, even his changeling -- because his mother was there... with Caroline.

Caroline had honey-blonde hair and clear aqua eyes, her voice rivaled even Gaila’s. She was Jacques’ complement in all things, a childhood friend all grown up and beautiful, the perfect mate according to his mother. He had balked at her matchmaking for ages, but now he no longer cared, believing that François had been right about the humans. But even as Jacques wore a mask to cover the gaping wound in his soul, he recognized a kindred suffering spirit.

Caroline offered her shoulder, listened without judging, and allowed him to unburden his soul while revealing her own devastating loss. In the dark of night, they clung together for solace and, along the way, made something from their shared grief.

Jacques opened his eyes and met Leonardo’s, who swallowed heavily. He still clearly remembered what had happened then, what he’d caused. He clung tightly to Jacques, memories of Austria swamping him.

His search for Jacques was futile. The vampyre guarded their inner circle jealously. Gaila could not help him, for like him, she was a mere changeling. The way was barred to the likes of them. And Chabrier... Chabrier refused to even pass along a message because Jacques and Caroline had a baby on the way.

That was when the full measure of what he’d done was revealed. Leonardo truly believed he had lost Jacques forever. He could look for Jacques for ages, but if Jacques did not want to be found, all Leonardo’s efforts would be useless. He was certain his life was over and seriously considered ending it with a final walk in the daylight. But Chabrier turned out to be kinder than Leonardo had ever expected of him, and one night the door of Leonardo’s room flew open and Jacques stepped over the threshold.

Leonardo’s throat still went dry as the memory of that moment washed over him. He’d fallen to his knees and begged unashamedly. It had taken years for them to regain their footing and he’d had to adjust to sharing Jacques’ affection, not with Caroline, but with David. A small smile ghosted over his features and a matching one bloomed on Jacques’.

“You should not dwell on the past, Bones.”

He nodded, heart as raw as his eyes. “I would not, but the mistakes are still here with us.”

“David,” Jacques began, but Leonardo interrupted.

“David is no mistake, amato, only the pain I caused you.”

“And that, too, is in the past. Long over.”

Jacques had named his son for Leonardo’s father, had honored him despite his seemingly fickle heart. Leonardo had learned a painful lesson, had trod a dangerous path, seduced by the vivacity of _life_ and how its echo to the very marrow in his bones still called to him. But they’d weathered that storm, walked the next century together until Egypt and the promise of centuries-old secrets lured Leonardo like a siren’s call.

Jacques indulged Leonardo, introduced him to the wonders of the ancient world and, ultimately, to Nyota. And here he was, wounded and unsettled, phantasms of the past assailing him, but he wasn’t alone. Never again. Jacques could not stay constantly at his side because whoever David was, he was every bit Jacques’ son and trouble was never far from the youthful vampyre.

David claimed Jacques’ attention, but that was no different than Leonardo becoming consumed with the promise of further learning. He’d been powerless to resist the lure of ancient scrolls in Egypt, found a wealth of texts long thought lost when the library at Alexandria burned. He was half-way in love before he even met Nyota. She was so unlike the women of Europe and he fell hard.

And, somehow, through it all, Jacques had understood this time. He’d even teased Leonardo about his Nubian princess, had urged him to answer her summons and had promised to meet him afterwards. No matter what had happened between them, they returned to each other.

“I do not deserve you,” Leonardo vowed, but one day, one day he would.

Jacques chuckled, a soft puff brushing Leonardo’s ear. “No, you do not,” he agreed, teasing. “If I had known you would turn out to be so amorous, I would have fled from Venice the first night we met. But now it is too late, I am afraid. I am stuck with you.” He raised his head to give Leonardo a full blown smile.

"Damn straight you are stuck with me," Leonardo rasped, but his heart was lighter. Just as he'd never stopped mourning his family, he'd never stop grieving for Nyota. He was richer for having known her, but she'd wanted him to celebrate her, not mourn, and he'd sworn he would, until the end of days. "She asked about you, insisted I tell her stories. She would have hated Europe, but she did love to hear tales about it." Leonardo found a smile in the memory and returned Jacques'.

“Nothing inappropriate, I hope?” Jacques waggled his eyebrows.

“You are ever the rogue, amato,” Leonard replied, teasing. “I admit she was fascinated by you. She was especially enamored of tales of your exploits. She found humor in your son being so like you.” He grinned at the memory of that conversation. “Nyota believed you had earned the trouble.

“Speaking of trouble… what has David gotten into this time?” he queried, but did not release Jacques.

Jacques chuckled again, this time ruefully. “Chabrier says David has yet to come up with a mischief I did not make in my day. I do not believe him. I could not have been that bad. Anyway, I managed to get them to England safely, and I think we should go there, too. France is not safe. And I am afraid Venice will fall soon.”

Leonardo's heart froze, the fear for his well-loved home overwhelming the urge to tease Jacques for his own more than colorful past. "So soon? Has that little tyrant become so powerful?" His fingers began to work at the buttons and ties of Jacques' clothes, eager to feel smooth skin beneath his palm.

Jacques dropped a kiss on his lips. “He is powerful now. But he will fall, as all tyrants do. We shall see it, I am certain.” He murmured in pleasure at the touch of Leonardo’s hands on his bared chest. “Let me get up and strip.”

"Please," Leonardo hummed, captivated by the feel of Jacques' flesh. "I have missed you, my beauty."

“Am I still your beauty, then?” Jacques teased. He got rid of his clothes and slipped into the bed by Leonardo’s side.

"You will forever and always be my beauty," Leonardo replied as his arms wrapped around Jacques, nose buried in silky golden waves. "You were mine from the first, as I am yours and always shall be. And if I were not wrung out and scraped raw, I would show you long and thoroughly right this very instant."

“Excuses!” Jacques snorted, making himself comfortable against Leonardo, their limbs entwined, their hearts beating in unison: lovers, mates, two halves of a whole.

"No excuse, amato," Leonardo whispered in reply, his body settling, feeling at ease and complete as he had not in far too long. “A promise.” His voice dropped, the words almost slurring as long needed repose claimed him.

No matter what storms and trials were to come, they would weather them together, never parted again.


End file.
